


Be Still My Foolish Heart

by Philomela



Series: Sweeter the Sun [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (might have completely forgotten that herbology is a thing), Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ancient Runes, Courtship, Cousins in Love, Curse Breaking, Divination, M/M, Magical Botany, Tarots, don't worry guys, hedge mazes, the sanctity and softness of the pairing will be untouched
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2020-11-23 05:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomela/pseuds/Philomela
Summary: Hadrian had been pining over Sirius for far longer than he'd care to admit, but his luck is finally (finally) turning around.Then a dead body turns up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Ugh, Mondays,” Harry groaned, recognizing the train platform from years before when he had first died fighting Voldemort. Looking around, he noticed the distinct lack of one former Headmaster, or even much of a platform beyond the small square of land he himself stood on. _
> 
> _Heaving a sigh, Harry boarded the train, idly wondering where it would take him — to the afterlife with his family? To his next life? Wherever it was, Harry just hoped he could take it easy — he had already had enough adventure to last him a few lifetimes._

“Ugh, I think I’ll need something a bit stronger than the tea. It’s been a long week,” Hadrian groaned as he sank into the seat across from his cousins.

“It’s Monday.” Regulus raised an eyebrow incredulously, even as he summoned Kreacher to request a bottle of wine from the cellar.

It was, indeed, a Monday. Which meant that it was Regulus’ turn to host the afternoon tea and gossip session that he, Hadrian, and Narcissa had held regularly since they were at Hogwarts — back when Narcissa was a wise seventh year; Hadrian an anxious second year; and Regulus a young, spoiled firstie.

It was now 16 years since, but they always made sure to make these meetings.

“Yes, well, it has been an excruciatingly long day none the less.” Hadrian almost cried in relief when Kreacher returned with several selections of his usual. “I’ve missed having a house elf. Mother wouldn’t let me take Daisy with me when I moved out.”

“You barely do any work, Fay,” Narcissa pointed out, sipping her usual rose tea as her blue eyes swept over his disheveled form — that turquoise chiffon robe was definitely new, the mandarin collar having just come back into fashion last week; his hair was still long and pulled into a half up-do that was starting to come apart (though she was pleased to note that it looked as if he had taken her advice and trimmed the ends at least); and he was wearing those ridiculously oversized spectacles that dwarfed his face and seemed to magnify his green eyes at the same time (the man was 28, not 16, what was he doing following the fads of children?).

“I really wish you guys would stop calling me that,” Hadrian groaned, as he went in for his second glass of wine — Narcissa sighed, exchanging a look with Regulus; they both knew that when Hadrian went for the rosé it was going to be one of _those_ days.

“The kids are starting to pick up on it. In fact, _your_ sprog had the nerve to call me Cousin Fay just yesterday. That’s my childhood trauma that you’re packaging into a cute little nickname.” Regulus moved to pour Narcissa another cup of tea, as she pulled Hadrian to sit beside her on the two seater — her hands gently smoothing his hair back as she positioned him to lean against her.

“Oh please. We all know that you got over that trauma as soon as Sirius hexed Bella _and_ the Lestranges for teasing you —“

“Not to mention, Sirius had told everyone that _of course_ you were fae, since you were too pretty to be human and you wouldn’t stop fucking preening over _that_ for _months_ —“

“So why don’t you tell us what’s really bothering you?” Narcissa allowed Hadrian to drain his glass before moving it to the table, only to find that Kreacher had popped in to hand him a bottle of elven wine — Regulus really needed to have a talk with his house elf; Merlin only knew _why_ the creature had a soft spot for Hadrian, but it wouldn’t do for him to enable the man’s drinking habits.

“Mrs. Fudge had me booked for the whole day — wouldn’t make any bloody decisions without running them by me first —“ He took a pull of the wine, sighing at the taste and ignoring the disapproving look Narcissa was shooting him. “I was reading tea leaves, looking through crystal balls, doing tarot spreads over and over, and aura reading all _fucking_ day. And on top of that, she wouldn’t keep her fucking hands to herself!”

“Scandalous,” Regulus drawled, his attention mostly aimed at the selection of sandwiches that had been ignored up until that point; he had just moved several to his plate, when he felt the sharp burn of a stinging hex coming from Narcissa’s wand.

“My eyes are strained as all hell — I had to add an _extra_ filtering charm to my lenses — I have a pounding headache, my skin is sensitive and feels as if it’s been scrubbed raw, and I’m _exhausted_. I just want to curl up in a ball and _hibernate_ but I have to head in to Gringott’s tomorrow morning. Fuck Mondays. I’m rewriting that damn contract with Fudge.”

“Poor baby,” Narcissa cooed, surreptitiously banishing the bottle of elven wine back to the Grimmauld wine cellar, and handing him a cup of tea.

“What are you doing at Gringott’s tomorrow?” Regulus asked, passing over a plate of scones.

“Oh, I have a contract with the department of curse breaking — I give lectures to the new hires once a week and also serve as a consultant.”

“When did that happen? I thought you were giving lectures at the university?”

“I still am, but it’s for an elective offered only once a week in the spring. I was already an informal consultant through Taidgh, but it was made official in May and I started giving lectures last week.”

Narcissa nodded in approval as she noticed that Hadrian was starting to perk up, though there was still a red flush riding high on his cheeks.

“You know, I never pictured you as a professor —”

“He still doesn’t really come across as one,” Narcissa pointed out.

“And yet here we are.”

“Yes, well, that _is_ why I’m at the university and not Hogwarts. I really don’t have the temperament to teach children.” Hadrian didn’t hate children, but he wasn’t the greatest at teaching the very basics — which is why he preferred university courses where he could set prerequisites so that he knew his students all had the foundations down at the least.

“Speaking of children, Draco is quite upset that you’re spending more time with the Potter’s child than him.” Narcissa looked pointedly at her younger cousin as she said this, her eyes not quite disapproving but bordering on disappointed — and was there anything worse than being under the weight of that disappointed gaze, especially when it comes from someone that has always been on his side for as long as he could remember.

“Why don’t you just tell Dray the truth — his Cousin Fay is pining after Sirius and is using the fact that Harry is Sirius’ godson to spend time with the idiot. If he wants to spend time with Fay, he’ll have an easier time if he catches Sirius’ attention first.”

“I am _not_!” Hadrian protested, glaring at Regulus who looked much too smug.

“Oh, denial is not a good look for you dear. The only person that has no clue what is going on is Sirius — though I refuse to believe that _that_ is not on purpose.” Narcissa paused for a beat, wondering if she should say what was on the tip of her tongue.

“He bought those robes for you.” The dark flush that stole over his face was answer enough.

“Oh, is he still doing that?” Regulus murmured, cocking a brow in amusement. “I dare say, he’s practically your sugar daddy at this point — what with all the gifts he’s been sending your way. Actually, is there anything in your closet that _wasn’t_ purchased by him?”

“That’s not true! The dragonhide pants are all from Taidgh —“

“I honestly do not even know _why_ he insists on pretending there’s anything even _remotely_ familial between you two.”

“I’m sure it’s some nonsense related to how marrying another Black would be the kind of thing that Aunt Walburga would have approved of, and Circe knows that idiot brother of yours has built his entire personality around going against that woman — even if she has been dead for more than two decades at this point.”

“I don’t have to sit here and listen to all this!” Hadrian growled out. “In fact, I’m going home and sleeping — in night clothes I bought _myself_, thank you very much.”

“Don’t forget, next tea is at yours!” Regulus called out, as the two watched Hadrian apparate away in a huff.

*

Hadrian had met Taidgh Byrne back when they were room mates at university. They hadn’t hit it off right away — what with Hadrian having grown up as the son of a Black and a Greengrass, while Taidgh had come from a firmly middle class family. It had been difficult at first — neither quite knowing what to do with the other — but once they realized that they had overlapping interests (and had shared courses), it became easier to bridge the gap and grow to become close friends.

Taidgh had intended to become a curse breaker from the outset, but had not been able to find anyone that would take him on as an apprentice — and so he found himself coming to the university in order to study his way to a curse breaker position.

Hadrian had ended up at university largely at the recommendation of his parents. At the time, he had not known what he wanted to do with his life; he knew that he had enjoyed his electives at Hogwarts — Divination, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Astronomy — and that he had done well in his NEWTs for said subjects, but couldn’t use that information to figure out a career path.

“You know, love, if you cannot see yourself pursuing an apprenticeship, why not apply for the university.” By which she was referring to the only magical university on the British Isles — The Three Sisters University (named so after the individual academies of Morgana, Hecate and Circe were merged into one institution of learning). “I know you Ravenclaws always appreciate learning for learning’s sake and while you take advanced classes, maybe you will figure out what you want to do in the future. Of course, if you end up deciding that you just want to stay home and play mind games at society events like your cousin Narcissa, that would be okay too — and at least this way, you’ll have something unique to bring to the table.”

Merlin bless his mother, she was a treasure that needed to be protected at all costs — Hecate knew that there were no other pureblood mothers as supportive as her. Of course, it helped to have a husband like Alphard Black — a useless man that adored absolutely everything about his wife and son (even taking joy in knowing that Hadrian took more after the Greengrass half than the Black).

And so Hadrian found himself at university, studying Divination (which, to his surprise, included learning to _make_ their own tarot deck of all things), Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Astronomy. Taidgh had only raised his brows in surprise when he saw the Divination and Astronomy classes on his schedule, but had made no comment — something Hadrian found refreshing and still appreciated about his friend to this day.

Hadrian found that he particularly appreciated it today — a day in which he had woken up feeling as if all the moisture in his body had been drained out of him; the one in which he awoke to his head pounding, his eyes glued together, and drool drying on his cheeks.

“I see you’ve found your way into some elven wine yesterday; one would think you’d have learned your lesson by now.”

“Oh do shut up,” Hadrian groaned, dragging himself out of bed and attempting to make himself at least resemble a functional human being. “Are you just going to stand there and watch or are you going to actually do something useful?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a terrible sight so early in the morning — quite endearing actually.” The smug bastard just rearranged his towering frame to more comfortably lean against the doorway. “And your coffee is already waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hadrian offered him a quick peck on the cheek in gratitude before heading to take a shower.

When he eventually rejoined Taidgh in their shared kitchen, he was feeling a little less dead inside, and a bit more willing to express his gratitude with a tight hug and a rub of his cheek against the other’s.

“Damn cat,” Taidgh muttered, handing over a still warm mug of coffee. Hadrian grinned, leaning over to scritch Athena in greeting — the part-kneazle had just wandered into the kitchen, already mewling her demands for attention.

Excluding that one drunken night back in university — that they had both enjoyed thoroughly — the two had a strictly platonic relationship; a platonic relationship that, nevertheless, still included a lot of snuggling and skinship.

“Ready to head in?”

“As much as I can hope to be. I think I’ll need the tinted glasses today, Mrs. Fudge was a bit overzealous in her requests for aura readings yesterday.”

“Poor you.” Taidgh charmed their dishes to the sink. “You still good with meeting my apprentice after work?”

“Of course! I wanna meet the poor bloke that decided to set his eyes on such a shit teacher.”

“Dunno how many times I have to tell you this, but the fact that you failed that Arithmancy test had more to do with you playing pet with Remus than with my teaching methods.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get going, Professor.”

“Hey, isn’t that my shirt that went missing last year?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about.”

*

“Uncle Fay!” Hadrian had a minute to prepare himself before a small body launched themselves at him.

“Hazza!” Emerald green eyes peered up at him through a messy fringe as surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his legs.

Hadrian had come to the Potter’s home in Godric’s Hallow straight after work, only making one detour in order to pick up a little something for his favorite pseudo-nephew — they were really second cousins, but Lily had grown frustrated with the complicated interconnected pureblood family trees and had decided that they would start all over and Hadrian and Harry would be uncle and nephew.

“Piggy-back?” Hadrian grinned, crouching down on the ground to allow the eight year old to scamper into position before (with a hearty groan that he would later deny) he stood and carried the two of them over to the group of adults watching their approach from their seats around the dining table.

“You know, one would think Harry was _your_ child; the resemblance is uncanny,” Lily remarked, a pout on her lips as she looked from the grinning face of her son to the softly smiling one of her friend.

“Prongslet still looks more masculine than Fay did at that age,” Sirius countered, barking out a laugh when he caught the disgruntled expression on said man’s face.

“I don’t know why we keep having to revisit this, but as I’ve said a million times before, I looked like one would expect a Greengrass child to look,” Hadrian sniffed, taking his seat across from Sirius after helping Harry get settled. “It’s not my fault that the rest of you looked like wild animals.”

“Is that Taidgh’s shirt?” Remus asked, brow raised as he took in the flannel shirt — which was already a dead give away that the shirt was not one that Hadrian had purchased himself — that was several sizes too large for Hadrian’s slight frame.

“Slander!” Hadrian cried out, as he started fixing Harry’s plate. He had to hide his grin when Harry — who was going through a phase of trying to become Hadrian’s perfect clone — let out his own higher pitched shout of “Slander!” His eyebrows were drawn down, and a frown was on his face, but the effect was ruined by virtue of his being an adorable child that had made the mistake of peeking at Hadrian for approval. Hadrian rewarded him with a ruffle of his bird’s nest of a hair and a “Good boy.”

“In answer to that accusation: it may or may not have started out its life as a shirt owned by a wizard named Taidgh Byrnes, but after it was so rudely forgotten at the bottom of a drawer, it has found a new life as one of my own.”

“Long day I take it?” Lily asked fondly with a roll of her eyes.

“_Yesterday_ was a long day. Today was _much_ better.” Harry paused for a moment, a mischievous look in his eyes before continuing. “Don’t tell anyone I said as such, but Mrs. Fudge was a hot mess yesterday and if she decides to ignore half the things I advised her — and I’m 90% sure she might — then I suspect that the Minister will _not_ be a happy camper sometime in the _very_ near future.”

“Sometimes I envy you,” Lily sighed, shaking her head in incredulity. “Though I’m sure not nearly as much as the Daily Prophet Society Column writers do.”

“I mean, if you want to try and recreate the feeling, you could always take a sabbatical and join my mother when she makes her rounds at the society teas.” Hadrian laughed as he saw Lily wrinkling her nose in distaste at the idea of taking a sabbatical just to sit around and sip tea with pureblood housewives. “Or if that’s not your thing, you could always attend the very exclusive Black Family Afternoon Tea.”

“By that, he means that it’s just him, Reggie, and Cissy sitting around a table and gossiping.” Sirius offered with a roll of his eyes.

“Like I said, exclusive.” Hadrian sniffed. He couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Sirius through the corner of his eye though — he never could resist the urge to do so — and had to stop himself from veritably _preening_ as he met dark grey eyes across the table. He could feel a warmth spreading throughout his body as those eyes bore into him. He searched Sirius’ face for… something, anything — it was kind of pathetic how starved he was for any kind of attention (but was it really that surprising? He had been watching, waiting, chasing after this man for the past 16 years and he dared anyone to go that long while keeping their poise). It was Harry that eventually brought him back to earth, that sweet child, just wanting to share some of his food with his Uncle Fay.

“Fay!” Harry called, dragging Hadrian’s attention over to him. When Hadrian raised a questioning brow, Harry thrust out his arm — the beet speared on the end of his fork aiming for his mouth. Hadrian made a big show of it — chomping on the beet and thanking Harry for making sure that Hadrian ate his vegetables. As Harry happily returned back to his plate, satisfied with feeding his Uncle Fay, the conversation picked up around the table.

Lily complained about the recent budget cuts to the Department of Mysteries, Sirius and James re-enacted one of the sillier Auror missions they were charged with the day prior, and Remus moaned about the lack of good references for the new Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook he was working on.

As they all moved to the living room to indulge in a post-meal tea, Hadrian pulled out a small matchbox-sized package from his pocket and resized it. With a grin, he passed it over to an expectantly waiting Harry who immediately tore apart the box to get to his present. (Hadrian had, on more than one occasion, thought that he should maybe dial back on the gifts he showered his nephew-cousin with as Harry was starting to develop an almost pavlovian response to Hadrian’s presence — associating his Uncle’s appearance at Godric’s Hallow with receiving gifts.)

Harry squealed as he pulled out a soft shimmering shawl, followed by a large book and a shrunken telescope.

“Now we can match,” Hadrian explained, reaching over to carefully wrap the shawl around Harry’s smaller body, chuckling as he watched the material dwarf the child.

“Thank you Uncle Fay! I love it!”

“Oi, Fay! Stop trying to turn my son into your clone!”

“Well, the rest of you are lost causes, but at least Harry can be redeemed. You love star gazing, don’t you Hazza?” Hadrian grinned in triumph when he received an enthusiastic nod in agreement. “At this rate, I might even be able to turn him into a Ravenclaw.” He deliberately ignored the shouts of outrage generated by that proclamation.

“Oh right, you all are invited to my place this weekend. Sorry for the short notice, but you can blame Taidgh for that.”

“What’s the occasion?” Lily was snuggling against James on the love seat and Hadrian idly noted that it was the same love seat that he had enjoyed helping James break in all those years back. Has it really been 10 years already?

“It’s a welcome party for Taidgh’s new apprentice at Gringott’s. It’ll just be you guys, some curse breakers and a handful of miscellaneous other folks. I’d recommend leaving Harry with Cissy — she decided she’d rather visit with Andromeda than come over — , plus I think he’d get on quite well with Draco anyway.”

“You think we can all fit into your flat for this?” Lily asked, her face expressing just how much she doubted the logistics.

“Oh, you’ve never been over his place, have you,” Remus noted. “Calling it a flat is pretty generous. He has 3 bloody floors, a main staircase, a receiving room, an entire library — even has enough room left over for a fucking harpsichord. It’s the size of a normal house.” Sirius was carefully watching Remus, an odd look in his grey eyes as the other talked about Hadrian’s flat with the confidence and knowledge of someone who knew the space well through first hand experience.

“You seem to be, ah, well acquainted with his flat,” James said, sharing a pointed look with his friend — those eyes seemed to be saying quite a lot if the cheeky grin Remus tossed back in reply was any indication.

“I’ve been a fair few times, yeah,” Remus admitted.

“Him and Taidgh have been bonding over their shared affliction,” Hadrian explained, deciding to toss the poor man a bone in his impromptu interrogation.

“They what?” Lily shifted her startled green eyes from one man to the other — this was the first time she had ever heard mention of _that_.

“Well, Taidgh’s not a full-blown werewolf, but he definitely is affected by the phases of the moon — gets a bit aggressive, likes his meat a bit _too_ fresh,” Hadrian leaned over to cup Harry’s ears, ignoring his whining. “Is horny as hell.” He smirked at that, letting his hands fall to his side as his eyes flickered over to Sirius — taking in the slight tightening of his jaw and the minute narrowing of his eyes as those grey eyes drilled into his own. Good. “He still attends all those werewolf support groups though. And of course, Remy and him have taken up to their own little meetings every so often.” Hadrian paused for a second, before reaching out a hand to ruffle Harry’s hair.

“Well, I think that’s enough for one night,” said Hadrian. He stood and turned to face the room. “I’ll see the lot of you at my place this Saturday. Hazza, I’ll see you for dinner next week.” Pausing at the doorway, he caught Sirius’ eye and tilted his head towards the front door. “Siri, walk me out?”

Hadrian led the way — up the paved path and around the right to the small grove of trees — and Sirius followed, a familiar comforting presence at his back.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Hadrian whirled around and pushed Sirius up against the trunk of the nearest tree, hands fisted in the front of his soft T-shirt and lips seeking out his. He moaned in relief when he felt Sirius pulling him in closer so that they were flush against one another, one hand threading through his hair and the other wrapping around his waist. Sweet Circe, but the man was like a drug that he couldn’t escape and moments like these only served to reel him in deeper.

Hadrian sighed in contentment as that mouth traveled from his lips down his neck — teeth nipping at the soft flesh, tongue laving the abused flesh in apology, and lips making sure to leave as many marks as they could before the pair pulled apart, panting.

“Oh look at us, Siri, but we’re a right mess aren’t we?” Hadrian murmured, fingers playing with the loose strands of hair framing the other’s face. Hadrian couldn’t help the gentle smile as he felt Sirius’ hands tighten their grip on his hips, and watched as the other buried their face in his neck — letting out a low whine, reminiscent of his canine form.

“I know I’m a mess, Fay. Fuck, I know it quite well,” mumbled Sirius.

“This isn’t so bad though, is it?” Hadrian carded his fingers through Sirius’ hair, enjoying the feeling of silk slipping through his fingers. “Siri, I’m just so tired of this game we’ve been playing — where I chase after you until you let me catch you, for just a moment, before you take off again and we have to start all over.”

Hadrian leant down, peppering kisses on whatever skin he could reach as Sirius moaned out in pain, “I know, I’m sorry. So sorry. You deserve better.”

“I do. I _really_ do. But, Hecate only knows why, I want it from _you_.” Hadrian sighed as he pulled back from Sirius’ embrace — it took all his willpower to ignore the whimper that tugged at his heart and the warmth radiating out from Sirius’ body.

“Look, why don’t you give it some thought. I’ll see you Saturday and you can tell me what you’ve decided by then, yeah?” Hadrian allowed one final kiss before he turned on the spot and apparated away — away from Godric’s Hallow and away from Sirius (though hopefully, not for the last time).

*

Come Saturday night, it looked as if the Potters had taken Hadrian’s advice to leave Harry with Narcissa. Hadrian watched as Taidgh escorted the group — James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus — into the main room where everyone had congregated that night.

“Hey Bill, you know the Potter’s at all?” When said redhead shook his head in the negative, Hadrian made sure to drag him over for introductions.

“May I introduce the guest of honor — William Weasley, the poor sod.” Taidgh made sure to hip-check him in retaliation for the comment, sending Hadrian stumbling into Sirius’ side. Hadrian flushed in pleasure as Sirius wrapped an arm around his waist to help stabilize him, the warm hand burning a hole through the thin material of his shirt.

“I’ll have you know that I’m a great teacher. Your singular experience is but a blemish on my otherwise stellar record,” Taidgh sniffed, before grabbing Remus to help fetch drinks for the group.

“Molly’s eldest, right?” Lily asked, ready with a friendly smile. “My son, Harry, is the same age as Ronald. We’ve been over the Burrow quite often for playdates.”

Hadrian watched as the Potters drew Bill into a discussion on his work at Gringott’s, though his attention was soon drawn away from the others and to the man at his side.

“This is the blouse I bought for you,” Sirius noted, his fingers feeling the soft silk fabric under his hand.

“You always know what would look best on me,” said Hadrian, green eyes peering up at the other man through a fan of dark lashes. Though Sirius had always had trouble being honest with his words, he had no such problem showing how much he cared for Hadrian through his actions — how else would one interpret the veritable mountain of tailored clothes sent his way? Sirius was not one to shower just anyone in silk and chiffon blouses, in cashmere and wool sweaters, in expensive robes that cost a small fortune. Over the years, Hadrian had only this knowledge to comfort him as his advances were otherwise rebuffed.

“I know that look,” Sirius murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle at the crook of Hadrian’s neck. “What are you thinking about, Fay?” He didn’t respond immediately, allowing himself a moment to just enjoy the warmth of Sirius’ body — the other man had always radiated heat, which was fine with Hadrian who had always ran a bit cold. He hummed in contentment.

“Just wondering what decision you came to. Regarding us.” Hadrian was sure that Sirius could feel the pounding of his heart, how could he not with how hard it seemed to beat — the sound even louder than the rush of blood that drowned out all other noise from the people around them.

“I think I’m done running,” said Sirius, his hands gently cupping Hadrians face so that their eyes could meet. Soft lips met his in a featherlight kiss — so gentle Hadrian almost thought that it was his imagination.

“Thank Merlin,” Hadrian breath out in relief, before pulling the other closer so that he could better acquaint himself with that wicked mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

_I think I’m done running_. When Sirius had said that, Hadrian had presumed that it meant that the two could finally date in peace, without Sirius’ misgivings keeping them apart.

Hadrian had forgotten that Sirius had a flair for the dramatic.

“A courtship! An honest to Merlin courtship!” Hadrian shook his head in disbelief, his arms tightening their hold around Athena — the feline was feeling unusually charitable that day and so suffered through the rough treatment, though not without a warning hiss whenever the grip became a bit too tight.

“I gave my full blessings,” said Narcissa, smiling as she poured herself a fresh cup of tea.

“I made him sweat a bit before I gave mine,” Regulus admitted with a satisfied smirk. “Can’t say he didn’t deserve it.”

Hadrian had intended to scold Regulus for teasing Sirius, but couldn't seem to bring himself to do so — he just felt overwhelming fondness for the man that had taken it upon himself to enact a sort of payback (a very small, very petty one, but one nonetheless) on his behalf. This was the one who used to cling to Hadrian as tightly as he could upon arrival at Hogwarts, not allowing something as silly as a difference in House and year to separate them.

“Well,” Regulus continued, “since Sirius approached us for approval, that means neither of us can be your chaperone.”

“Have anyone else in mind, Fay?”

Hadrian did, in fact, have another candidate in mind and — having just received confirmation this morning — thought it safe to share.

“I love you both with all my heart, but I think I should expand this courtship to include people outside of the Black family.”

“It’s Daisy Greengrass, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. Not like I could ask Gareth, now could I?”

“What’s wrong with Gareth?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Gareth. Gareth’s a great guy, but he’s quite a bit older than I am, so we were never all that close,” said Hadrian, referring to his mother’s cousin.

“His eldest daughter, Daphne, is Draco’s age though, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but he’s only a bit younger than mum. Married a bit late, had kids even later.” Hadrian looked down as Athena started wriggling in his arms and mewling plaintively. He sighed, and then helped her to the floor, giving her rump a gentle pat. “On you go, girl.”

“Have you heard from your parents yet?” asked Regulus, none too subtly changing the subject — he had never liked the fact that Hadrian talked to his mother’s family. Hadrian could recall multiple instances in which they had had an argument over Hadrian visiting the Greengrass’, as Regulus believed that they were unnecessary (_“Why would you need them anyway, when you have me and Siri and Cissy and Andy?”_).

“No, not yet. Though I’m sure he’s over there right now, so it should only be a matter of time.” He expected that his parents would want to have a chat with him, as today would be the first they would hear of the relationship. Penelope Black née Greengrass was a shrewd woman and therefore would have worked through years worth of clues to arrive at the correct conclusion. Alphard, on the other hand — the extent of his knowledge could go either way. “He had stopped by yesterday to talk to Taidgh.”

“Oh, that must have been awkward,” Regulus said with barely repressed glee at the thought. “Sirius was so sure the two of you were shagging.”

“Yes, well, that _was_ what I had wanted him to think.” Hadrian had, with great success over the years, repeatedly used jealousy as a means to goad Sirius into action — the man would have been fine wallowing in denial so long as Hadrian was unattached, but Merlin forbid any other man show a sliver of interest in him, then Sirius would finally acknowledge the tension between them for a moment. Of course, the latest ploy had all been mere suggestion without any substance, so Taidgh had been completely blindsided by the undercurrent of hostility in their interaction yesterday.

“It all worked out though. Taidgh was quite amused once I explained everything to him, and he gave his blessings without much fuss.”

“Any idea who Sirius is going to pick as his chaperone?”

“Well it can’t be you lot, for the same reasons as I couldn’t, and it wouldn’t be fair to choose James or Remus — they wouldn’t exactly be neutral third parties then.”

“I thought his choice was obvious,” Narcissa interjected calmly. “My sister knows the rules by heart, and is capable of staying impartial.”

“Who? Bella?” Regulus squawked, shooting her a look of incredulity.

“No, you idiot. Andromeda.” That did make sense. Though Andromeda was quite a bit older than Sirius, the two had always been rather close — at least much closer than he had been with any of the others.

“She ran off with a muggle-born, didn’t she? I remember her being blasted off the tapestry. I wonder how Uncle Cygnus would feel knowing she’ll be involved in the courtship.”

“Father was always a bit overdramatic, but overall quite harmless. Mother, on the other hand, is the one I would keep my eye on.”

“I still can’t believe you’re related to the Rosiers,” said Hadrian, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “I mean, nice genes — you all look lovely — but Evan Rosier can fuck right off.”

“Oh, but Fay, don’t you remember what Aunt Druella likes to say?” Regulus cleared his throat, aiming for a perfect replica of said Black’s mannerisms — nose lifted at a 45 degree angle, eyes narrowed in distaste, and voice pitched high in the part of the vocal register recognized as shrill. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

“Nevermind the fact that no one can ever seem to prove him guilty, despite everyone and their mother knowing that he’s a creepy pedophile.”

“Hebephile,” Narcissa interjected.

“What?”

“He has mentioned on several occasions that hebephilia is not on the same level of depravity as pedophilia and that it would really behoove people to learn the difference between the two.” Narcissa rolled her eyes so hard that Hadrian was almost worried that she had hurt herself.

“Of course he did. I’m sure he’s also patted himself on the back for waiting until I was 15 before he tried to corner me, though that didn’t stop him from looking long before then.” Hadrian could still remember that day — that arm wrapped a bit too tight around his waist, and those eyes far from expressing any sort of warmth as he was herded towards an unused room far from the other guests; Hadrian had been distraught at the time, having had to sit through Bellatrix’s taunts just moments before, or he would have had the sense to try and make his escape. He still shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if Sirius hadn’t intervened on his behalf.

“How much trouble would I be in if I just don’t invite him to the bonding ceremony?” Hadrian asked with a sigh, quickly conjuring up various scenarios in which he had to confront Cygnus and Druella on their odious nephew. He was quickly pulled from one scenario — in which he had been unable to diplomatically relay the news and was forced to duck as Aunt Druella furiously lobbed a hex at him — and peered over at Regulus in concern as the other man started coughing violently — the tea seeming to have gone down the wrong way.

“Oh, has that already been decided then?” Narcissa said, looking amused as she calmly charmed out the fluid that had erroneously found its way into Regulus’ trachea.

“Well I certainly won’t be the one to call this off,” Hadrian pointed out, passing a handkerchief over to Regulus who spared both of his cousins a quick look of gratitude as he used the cloth to dab at the corners of his mouth.

“We figured as such, but you must know that it’s bad luck to plan the bonding before the courtship’s even begun.”

“Cissy, look at who you’re talking to,” Regulus said, laughing. Regulus was of course referring to the fact that Hadrian’s professional life revolved around interpreting omens both good and bad.

“Yes, yes, Fay is our very own modern day Sybil, I know.” Regulus and Hadrian shared a look of fond amusement at the remark.

“I’m not much for prophecies, but I can agree with the spirit, I suppose.”

“O for effort; you did your best Cissy.”

*

Hadrian had only just said his good-byes to Narcissa and Regulus when Lenny — the owl that had so dutifully served his parents for as long as Hadrian could remember — flew into the room. He took the message from the outstretched foot and reached out a finger to softly stroke the feathers on his crown in thanks. Looking down at the parchment, he couldn’t help the fond chuckle as he saw the family’s wax seal — trust his parents to cling to these rituals of formality, even when simply jotting down a quick message to their son. Hadrian gently peeled back the wax seal and looked down to see the gracefull loops of his mother’s handwriting, requesting his presence at home — _“more for your father’s peace of mind than anything else._”

Moments later, he stepped out of the fireplace with Lenny perched on his shoulder and Athena cradled in his arms — if he had gone home without her she would sulk for days, something he knew with the certainty of previous experience.

“Hadrian, my little raven!” He had been given just enough warning to set Athena on the floor before he was swept up in his father’s arms.

“Papa,” said Hadrian, voice warm with affection as he felt the sharp bristles of his father’s beard brush against his cheek. He vaguely heard the mumbled comments about his hair — _“It’s getting a bit long, don’t you think”_ — and about his weight — _“You’re always sitting around drinking tea, would it kill you to eat something as well”_— and had just opened his mouth intending to reply, when he caught sight of his mother sweeping into the room.

“Come now, dear, don’t suffocate the poor boy.”

When he was a child, people would always comment that he took after his father — looking back on it all, they were probably full of shit and only talking about the superficial likeness in that his hair was the same raven black as all Blacks, and his complexion closer to the golden hue of his father than the pale alabaster of his mother — but now that he had finished growing, it was hard to deny that he mostly took after his mother and the Greengrass genes she had provided. Which was how mother and son found themselves sharing a fond look of exasperation over Alphard Black’s shoulder.

“Darling, I’m sure our son would appreciate the chance to sit down and catch his breath” said Penelope, as she gently pulled her husband away from their only child.

“If our son would only visit us more often, I wouldn’t have to cling to him whenever I get the chance,” said Alphard, a petulant expression on his face though he did allow himself to be pulled to her side. “And now some rake — some byronic knockoff — intends to steal him away!”

_Byronic?_ Hadrian mouthed to his mother in puzzled amusement when he is sure his father isn’t looking — his mother simply looked towards the heavens as if asking for the patience to weather her husbands hysterics.

“May I remind you, that the young man you are calling a rake is your nephew, whom you are quite fond of,” Penelope said, nudging her husband into his seat and gesturing for her son to do the same.

“And no one is stealing me away, Papa,” Hadrian added with a roll of his eyes as he scooped Athena back into his arms. “Everything will be the same. I’ll just be living with him instead of with Taidgh.”

“And where does this interloper live now?” Alphard asked, eyeing him in suspicion.

“At Grimmauld Place with —”

“Ah-ha!” Alphard shouted with glee. “So he doesn’t even have a place of his own? How does this brat intend on taking care of you then? By begging for scraps from others?”

“Papa —”

“He didn’t even have the sense to hold onto the Black lordship, so Merlin only knows what other disastrous decisions he’s made.”

“Dear —”

“No child of mine will be forced to live in squalor!”

“Papa!” Hadrian managed to gain his attention this time. “Sirius is an auror and, last I checked, they receive a not so inconsequential sum of galleons for their work. Though, even if that had not been the case, he still has enough in savings to more than make up for it. _And_,” Hadrian continued, shooting a sharp glare at Alphard who had begun to open his mouth — no doubt to bring up yet another argument regarding how terrible Sirius is, “even if he hadn’t a sickle to his name, I make enough for the both of us. May I remind you that we are doing this with the intention of marriage, _not_ as a business arrangement.” Hadrian paused, deciding that it was safe to catch his breath — he had rushed to say his piece, not wishing to grant his father an opportunity to interrupt and derail him.

“Now who does that remind you of,” Penelope said, a pleased smile tugging at her lips as she looked pointedly at her husband.

“Now see here, that was different —”

“You know damn well that it’s exactly the same,” Penelope said, voice sharp and a tad affronted. “He loves Sirius. _We_ love Sirius — or we did not just 3 hours ago,” she continued. “And we all know that, just as you were no pauper back then, Sirius will not have our son starving on the streets; he is more than capable of taking care of Hadrian.”

Alphard opened his mouth, clearly intending to continue the argument indefinitely, before letting out a heavy sigh and seeming to deflate into himself. He raised his eyes, a bright blue that Hadrian had always made sure to compliment at every available turn when he was a young child, and looked at Hadrian in defeat. Hadrian shared a pleased smile with his mother, before standing and making his way over to his father — Athena safely cradled in his arms as they made the 3 stride journey from their seat to his parents; taking pity on the poor man, he sat between his father and the arm of the settee, wedging his body in close to Alphard’s side and resting his head on the other’s shoulder. For a moment, Alphard seemed intent to wallow in his self-pity but only managed to hold out for another breath before wrapping an arm around his son and laying his head atop the other’s.

Penelope watched over them with an affectionate look in her eyes and a triumphant smile upon her lips.

*

“Hadrian!?” If Hadrian had heard the shout, he provided no feedback, leaving his recently arrived guest to stumble through his flat in search of said resident. The blonde figured it would not be much of a hardship to locate her wayward cousin — she just had to follow the sounds of Hadrian’s beloved harpsichord as the plectrums lovingly plucked strings to a tune that she could not name but had heard a handful of times before. When she turned the corner to finally enter the living room from whence the music was originating, she was treated to the sight of Hadrian — looking ethereal in his champagne dress robes and long hair pulled into a half up-do — shuffling through his tarot cards as the keys of the harpsichord continued to play on their own on the other side of the room.

“Oh, Daisy,” Hadrian greeted absentmindedly, as he placed his cards down in one of his most familiar arrays. “Is it already that time?”

“Well, I don’t think Sirius is due for another 10 minutes or so, but yes, we are cutting it close,” Daisy informed, settling in to a seat across from Hadrian. She helped herself to the cut fruit sitting neglected off in a corner of the table. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to calm my nerves,” Hadrian replied, frowning as he looked over the cards he had drawn.

“Why am I not surprised that this is how you calm yourself,” Daisy said with a roll of her green eyes. “Do you not find yourself averse to using your tarots in your free time as well as your working hours?”

“Well I never considered it work to begin with, so I suppose there was never an opportunity for that sentiment to grow,” Hadrian pointed out, before sighing and returning the spread cards to their deck. “That was a waste of time,” he huffed in annoyance, glaring down at the stack of cards in his hands as if they had done something to personally offend him. “Completely useless.”

“5 minutes,” Daisy noted, eyes sparkling in amusement as she took in the pout on the other’s lips — the older they get, the more they stay the same it seems.

“How have you been, Daisy? I haven’t heard from you since you wrote to complain about that disastrous blind date your friend had arranged.” Daisy grimaced at the mention of the incident that she stubbornly refused to think about the past two months.

“Oh, you know, same old same old. Still selling flowers, still single, still babysitting for Gareth.”

“Speaking of — how are the girls doing?” Hadrian asked, referring to Gareth’s children — Daphne and Astoria. “They’re, what, 8 and 6 now?”

“Yep,” Daisy confirmed, making sure to pop the ‘p’ as she was wont to do these days.

“Damn,” Hadrian breathed, shocked though he really shouldn’t have been. “I still remember when they were both ugly, wrinkled old things.”

“They were rather horrifying at first, weren’t they?” Daisy said in agreement, nose wrinkling at the reminder of how the two had looked their first day on earth — of course one could forgive them for their appearance, as no one could expect to look their best having just been pushed out of a vaginal canal and having only escaped the fluid they had been pickling in for the past 9 months.

“They _are_ quite adorable now, though. Which reminds me. You should stop by and visit sometimes, you know. You wait any longer and those girls probably won’t even be able to recognize you anymore.”

Hadrian, a look of sheepishly self-aware guilt apparent on his face, had been casting around for some sort of explanation that would cast him in a more charitable light when he was thoroughly caught off guard by the loud ringing of a bell reverberating throughout the flat — saving him from any (admittedly warranted) scolding.

“Oh, that must be Sirius! Let me get that.” Daisy jumped to her feet, quickly glaring at Hadrian (who had begun to unfurl from his seat in order to follow), signaling that he should stay put, before she bustled over to the front door to welcome their guests. It took but a moment — long enough for Hadrian to have stood up and start his search for Athena in order to seek out her comforting presence — for Daisy to return with Sirius and his chaperone. Hadrian took in the distinctive features of Andromeda Black — like a clone of Bellatrix if Bellatrix had been prone to smiling enough to develop laugh lines or had slightly larger (but much more welcoming) eyes and a rather pleasant expression at baseline (that is to say, not much of a clone at all, but rather someone carrying the distinctive features that screamed of a shared heritage).

“Cousin Andromeda,” Hadrian greeted, placing a light kiss to the back of her proffered hand. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“That it has,” she agreed, not even trying to hide her amusement at the obvious unease Hadrian felt around her. “18 years to be exact, I believe.”

“Really?” Sirius asked, clearly shocked at the number. “That long?”

“You know how it is,” Andromeda said, smiling in that conspiratorial fashion that Hadrian had associated with her younger self. “We all have our favorites.”

“Except Bella,” Hadrian interjected with a grimace. “She hates all of us, and I’m sure the feelings are mutual on all of our parts as well.”

“I try not to think of her if I don’t need to,” Andromeda replied lightly, the only sign of her displeasure the minute narrowing of her eyes. “But that’s enough about her — we needn’t summon her spectre on such a lovely day. Hadrian, dear, you look stunning in those dress robes!”

“Thank you. They were actually a gift,” Hadrian admitted, glancing at Sirius briefly before his attention was caught by the giggling Greengrass stood behind him.

“Oh, this is good. Andy, I’ll catch you up to speed soon enough,” Daisy said, waving off the attention she had garnered.

“Well,” Sirius coughed in embarrassment, before stepping up to take the lead. “We can do this one of two ways: apparition or floo travel. I’ll let you decide.”

“Floo,” Hadrian decided. “I never did like the sensation of apparition,” he explained when he caught Andromeda’s questioning look.

“Floo it is then.”

*

  
Stepping out of the floo, Hadrian had just enough time to look around the establishment and conclude that it was definitely not Sirius’ usual scene, before he was being led over to a private room. He could feel the light breeze of a cleansing spell brushing over his robes (ostensibly to remove any lingering soot or floo powder) as he passed through the doorway separating the receiving room from the main area of the tea house. He peered around, taking in the tables dotted around the surprisingly large room seating wizards and witches of various group sizes, heads bent over steaming cups of tea, and the ambient sounds no louder than a dull murmur; as he passed through another doorway to enter their private room he could feel the weight of a noise dampening spell rippling around his frame and felt his curiosity piqued (it was an interesting choice, to choose to dampen the sound instead of cancelling and isolating it all together; probably requiring a tricky bit of spellwork — maybe even a rune matrix? — in order to filter the conversations so that the precise words were blocked while allowing ambient sounds through). Daisy and Andromeda followed closely behind and took their seats at a table placed on the other side of their cozy room — far enough away so as to give the courting couple some privacy while still being close enough to catch any signs of impropriety. This suggested that the spellwork was limited to the perimeter of the room itself, instead of being anchored to the individual tables (an observation that Hadrian tucked away in the back of his mind, content to wait for a rainy day before taking it out to ponder over).

“You know, if you were dying to take tea with me, you could have just asked — I’d be happy to invite you over,” Hadrian remarked, amusement clear in his voice.

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” Sirius replied with a roll of his eyes before gracing him with a fond smile to show that there were no hard feelings towards the words that — were it addressed to anyone else, with a slight adjustment in tone — could have been misconstrued as a pointed complaint. “But the initial meeting place does have some restrictions — neutral area, casual, semi-public, etc. Andy could fill you in if you’re at all curious.”

“I’m assuming she had a hand in selecting our current location then?”

“You would be assuming correctly,” Sirius replied.

“She has great taste. The cakes here are delicious, and I quite like their oolong as well.” Noticing that slight head tilt that Sirius was wont to do when he was equal measures confused and curious about something — an occurrence that Hadrian had observed from afar on a handful of occasions — he continued on, “Narcissa likes to occasionally stop here to pick up some tea and sweets on those days when she decides to take lunch with me at the shop.”

“Is that something you do often?”

“Oh, not at all,” Hadrian said, laughing at the thought. “No, Cissy likes to do that when she wants to corner me for something. Last time she guilted me into agreeing to watch Draco so that Lucius and her could run off to Lyon and drink themselves into a stupor for her friend’s engagement.”

“Those bastards.” Sirius tried to affect a look of outrage on his behalf, but had trouble pulling it off when the corners of his lips kept twitching upwards. Hadrian playfully glared at him, at which point Sirius dropped the pretense and let loose a bark of laughter followed by an unrepentant grin.

With an amused shake of his head and a pleased glint brightening those grey eyes, Sirius took out his wand and rapped gently on the surface of the table — once for the tea and cups to materialize and once again for a selection of cakes to follow. Hadrian watched the movement with interest, taking note of the delicate carvings etched along the length of the wood.

“That’s new,” Hadrian remarked, tone light and curious.

“It is,” Sirius said in agreement, looking hesitant and a tad embarrassed — as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have and was still trying to figure out how he could get out of the situation unscathed.

“Would it be alright if I take a closer look?” Hadrian asked carefully with bated breath. The request was rather a lot like requesting to view a person’s diary or pensieve — a wand was an extension of a person and holding another’s was quite an intimate experience; most people would reject the request without much thought. This was a delicate situation though — like all situations that involved Sirius, if he was being perfectly honest — since Sirius was courting Hadrian and this request could be viewed as a test on Hadrian’s part (and Hadrian honestly couldn’t say if he meant it to be one or not).

Sirius did not move for one, two, three heartbeats — those grey eyes clouded with some unnamed emotion — before he slowly moved his arm and offered his wand (handle first) to Hadrian. Hadrian received the offering gently, one hand cradling the curves of the grip as another trailed fingertips almost reverently over the etchings he had spotted earlier.

“It’s a conditional matrix,” Hadrian breathed out, glancing up at Sirius in surprised pleasure. Sirius inclined his head in agreement, a light flush starting to warm his cheeks. Then he offered up his hand for inspection, palm facing down towards the table. Hadrian glanced at the black ink scrawled across the base of his fingers and couldn’t stop the peal of laughter that bubbled up the back of his throat.

“Oh, that is _clever_!” Hadrian worked with runes, played with them as if he were composing simple commands in English, and yet had never thought to use them on himself — and certainly had never thought to use that specific sequence in order to allow himself to channel magic through his hands in the event of being disarmed. “Have you tested it?”

“Just last week, when James and I had to bust an illegal dragon smuggling ring. Wand flew clear to the other side of the room. Was able to channel without any interference.”

“Have you ever tried to reverse it? Make it so that you can channel your magic to your wand?” When Sirius looked at him in shock at the suggestion, Hadrian just shook his head in fond exasperation — trust Sirius to work out the more complicated pathway without having ever realized that there was a more simple path to write out (and trust him to be so brilliant that it seemed to have succeeded). Hadrian quickly transfigured one of the scones into a piece of parchment and a slice of cake into a stick of charcoal and began sketching out the schematic he had conjured in his mind before he could forget. Sirius peered down at the parchment in curiosity as Hadrian began labeling the drawing, noting the runes that Sirius had used on his wand and the accompanying ones that he had tattooed on his hands. Then he began playing around with the order of the runes, substituting as he felt necessary until he had a tentative conditional matrix written out.

“I would need to double check this — I was going purely off of memory here — but this should allow you to cast spells from your wand even if it’s across the room or otherwise out of reach.”

“Brilliant,” Sirius breathed, looking at Hadrian with awe. “It took me months to create my matrix and yet you came up with this in just a few minutes.”

“Well, it’s a lot easier to rework an established matrix — much more difficult to create one to begin with,” Hadrian pointed out, frowning at how Sirius had tried to downplay his own brilliance. “Don’t sell yourself short, Siri. I’m amazed that you were able to come up with this, considering you never took Ancient Runes. This must have all been self taught.”

“Remus helped out a lot in the beginning, he was the one that told me that conditional matrixes were even a thing,” Sirius admitted, looking equal parts embarrassed and pleased at the praise. “There was also a fair bit of experimentation involved. I’m not quite at the stage of recklessness where I’ll start carving rune matrixes into my skin when I’m still stumbling through the basics.”

“I’m actually quite glad to hear that,” said Hadrian with a sigh of relief. “But how long have you been studying runes? Surely you didn’t just pour over a dictionary just to put that matrix together… did you?”

Sirius laughed at the thought, shaking his head in response, “Oh definitely not.” He pulled up the sleeves of his dress robes, revealing the black ink covering the length of his forearm — he could see more peeking out from under the edge of the sleeve, hinting that the entire arm was covered (maybe even more, _probably_ even more). Hadrian was able to quickly pick out the eclectic selection of runes weaved among the geometric decorations — endowing protection and strength and luck.

“Did you cover yourself in runes?” Hadrian breathed out, voice tremulous with an emotion he chose not to inspect too closely at the moment. _But why?_ It was almost as if Sirius heard the unspoken question, as he turned his attention to his cup of now tepid tea, large hands cradling the porcelain curves as he seemed to mull over his thoughts.

“It was something you cared quite a great deal about,” Sirius finally said, grey eyes lifting to peer directly into Hadrian’s own pair of green, now growing wide in shock. Sirius had said it so easily — so matter of fact: _you loved ancient runes and I cared enough for you that I also spent my free time looking into it; even though I spent years pushing you away and keeping you at arms length, I was honest enough with myself to carve these characters into my skin_. Hadrian could feel his heart begin to swell with affection for the man sitting across the table — a gentle warmth spreading throughout his body. It was this revelation — more than being entrusted with his wand, or entering this courtship — that convinced Hadrian that he could trust Sirius’s intentions.

Unbidden, his father’s hysterical objections flitted through his mind, prompting an almost giddy sort of laughter.

“A rake indeed,” Hadrian repeated with a scoff. “A complete and utter byronic knock-off in the flesh, come to spirit me away,” he continued, with a roll of his eyes and a quick shake of his head. What rake would do something so utterly romantic as carving reminders of the one they love into their skin?

“My father’s an idiot,” Hadrian began in explanation as he saw Sirius tilt his head quizzically. “He did not take too well to your courtship proposal and was adamant that you’ll steal me away only to live in squalor — I set him straight, don’t worry. Though, he’s probably not your biggest fan at the moment, so I wouldn’t go running to take tea with them anytime soon.”

“That is a bit disheartening,” Sirius admitted, though he couldn’t hide the almost pleased grin at his monikers. “I always did look up to Uncle Alphard — fancied him as a more ideal father than my own.”

“And he loves you too, he was just a bit blindsided. He’ll get over it quickly though, he always does.”

Hadrian was sure that he had a silly grin on his face as he allowed Sirius to pour him a new cup of tea, cradling the cup and absorbing the warmth from the steaming drink as they sat in comfortable silence. Sirius finally dug into the cakes that had been sitting off to the side ignored up until that point; Hadrian watching as he cautiously took a small bite, grey eyes closing briefly before he let out a small moan of delight — high praise from the man that usually complained that most desserts were _too sweet_.

In between bites of cake and sips of tea, Sirius and Hadrian leant closer to each other, taking turns to sketch and scribble on the parchment lying on the table between them. Hadrian drew out a selection of galdrastafir that he had been studying recently while consulting with Gringotts and quietly explained each sigil, while Sirius excitedly started outlining the upgrades and modifications he had planned for the motorbike he had come by several weeks back. As they filled every spare inch of the parchment with charcoal lines, quickly drained two pots of tea and absentmindedly finished off the remaining selection of cakes, they found their bodies leaning towards each other across the table, heads bent low and crowns almost touching. Hadrian became acutely aware of the proximity of their faces when Sirius reached out a hand to tuck an errant strand of hair behind his ear, grey eyes soft as the hand lingered longer than strictly necessary. He found himself flushing under the weight of that gaze, suddenly hyper aware of the warmth of Sirius breath fanning over face, the way his larger frame was curled towards his own, the feeling of his calloused fingers cradling the curve of his cheek and the scent of Sirius’ earthy musk filling and clouding his mind. His eyes were drawn downwards, attracted by the movement of Sirius’ tongue wetting his lips and he could feel his body inching forwards. Then the moment was broken by a loud pointed cough and the gentle pinch of a stinging hex aimed at their sides.

“Well, then,” Andromeda said, looking between the two men whom had settled properly back into their seats. “I think today has been productive. What say you to ending it here?” While the words were presented in the form of a question, she didn’t actually wait for a response before summoning the check. While Andromeda focused on settling their bill, Daisy made her way over to their table and paused beside her charge, sharing a long look with Sirius. Shooting a furtive glance at Andromeda — confirming that she was busy speaking with the waiter, back turned towards them — she nodded at Sirius and casually glanced off to the side, signalling that she was no longer monitoring them and providing an opportunity for Sirius to sweep Hadrian into his arms for a brief moment. When Daisy had decided enough time had passed, she cleared her throat in warning before turning back to face them, allowing Sirius enough time to grasp Hadrian’s hand and press a kiss to the back, before she herded Hadrian over to the fireplace to floo home.

*

“So, how’d your date go?”

After parting ways with Daisy, Hadrian had quickly changed into his pajamas — a T-shirt too large for his frame, stolen from Taidgh years ago, and a pair of linen sleeping pants, ones he had actually purchased for himself — and had curled up on the couch in the living room waiting for his roommate to return home.

“Surprisingly, it went really well,” Hadrian mused, watching as Taidgh made his way to the arm chair across from him, Athena languidly following close behind before stopping in front of the taller man and yowling — her way of expressing her wish to be picked up. Taidgh rolled his eyes at the feline’s antics but still obediently bent forward to scoop the demanding animal up into his arms.

“Well that’s good, right?”

“Very.”

“You don’t look too sure, though,” Taidgh pointed out, because of course he would notice the undertone of unease surrounding his friend.

“I was just thinking… about the reading I had done today…” Hadrian ignored the incredulous look that that admission earned him — Taidgh had left that morning with a warning to Hadrian to not even think of trying to scry his romantic future (needless to say Hadrian had immediately ignored that advice and hadn’t even waited for the front door to lock before he had run to grab his nearest deck of tarots — which, in his defence, wasn’t _scrying_).

“What am I gonna do with you, Fay?” Taidgh said with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head. “Can you believe this Athena? Your owner is being stupid.” Athena mewled and Taidgh nodded sagely. “Yes, again. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. Not really anything new to see here.”

“I take offence to that,” Hadrian grumbled, but he was promptly ignored. “I can’t help it! You can’t just tell me _not_ to try and peek at the future!” Hadrian complained, beginning to pout.

“Yeah, who are we to stop the star child that had apparently been marinated in time dust as a fetus or whatever explains your supernatural affinity for Divination,” Taidgh replied.

“I already told you my theory,” Hadrian reminded him, hugging his knees close to his chest and wriggling his toes when he caught Athena staring at the bare feet.

“See, your theory is only satisfying if you actually believe in the concept of past lives as well as the idea that stuff that occurred in your past life can influence your current one. Unfortunately, I believe in neither. So your baseless theory that you must have had a prophecy in your previous life now rendering you a darling child of the fates, allowed to peer at the strings of fate in order to make a living pandering to rich society women, doesn’t really work for me.”

“Good thing I don’t need you to actually believe it, then. Besides, you’re completely hopeless with Divination so you’re honestly the last person I’d be bouncing theories off of,” Hadrian said, knowing enough from previous experience to not push the point too much — Taidgh had never put much stock into Divination in the first place and had only really made an exception for Hadrian.

Taidgh had looked like he was going to continue to argue anyway, but was quickly cut off as a familiar owl swooped in overhead, neatly avoiding Athena’s pouncing range, and perching gracefully on Hadrian’s left shoulder.

“Oh, is it time for your regular care package?” Taidgh teased, referring to the gifts that Sirius had recently gotten into the habit of sending over.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Hadrian said as he enlarged the shrunken package to it’s original size. Once the brown paper wrapping was disposed of, a rather sturdy and ornately carved wooden box was revealed. He could recognize the feel of protection charms seeped into the wood and unconsciously held his breath as he undid the metal clasp in front and gently lifted the lid. Inside, the box was lined with a soft velvet lining cradling what looked to be a small-scale model of the solar system nestled on top of a shrunken and folded piece of shimmering black cloth. Hadrian picked up the folded parchment tucked behind the model and read the message left for him.

“It’s the courting gift,” he announced before handing the letter over to Taidgh. Hadrian gently reached in and lifted out the model, watching as the enchantments seemed to kick in and the orbs representing the planets slowly rearranged themselves into their proper positions before beginning to undergo their actual, real-time revolutions and rotations.

“Now you can’t say he doesn’t know you well,” Taidgh commented, tone amused. Hadrian nodded in agreement as he poked and prodded at the model, referring to Sirius’ letter to learn the commands to change the reference time and watched in pleased shock as the model stilled and adjusted itself to display the arrangment for the requested date and time. Once he had reset the model and allowed it to begin moving once again, Hadrian returned his attention to the box and retrieved the other gift that had been nestled inside. With a wave of his wand, he cancelled the shrinking charm and watched as the cloth expanded to its full size. With Taidgh’s help, they unfolded the cloth and revealed what looked to be a large tapestry of the night sky.

“He says here that you can toggle the time and location for this as well. Damn,” Taidgh let out a low whistle in approval. “This will come in handy. Now you don’t need to do the calculations from scratch each time.”

Hadrian had had the same thought — the two gifts were things that he could use on a regular basis to help speed up his work. It also showed that Sirius actually supported his professional endeavors instead of just putting up with it for the sake of their relationship. He would have been fine with the latter, but he was relieved that he didn’t have to just settle for that.

“Not that you care for my opinion at all, but I say he’s a keeper.” Athena gave a purr of agreement from where she was curled up on the tapestry. Considering that she usually hated everyone that wasn't Hadrian or Taidgh, it was a ringing endorsement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later: "It glows... Morgana's tits! Oi, Taidgh! You gotta see this — it fucking glows in the dark!"


	3. Chapter 3

Hadrian wasted no time in hanging the tapestry on the ceiling of his bedroom and was surprised at how well (almost _suspiciously well_) it filled the dimensions — reaching from one corner to the other, leaving no part uncovered. For a moment, Hadrian briefly entertained the fantasy of Sirius sneaking up to his bedroom in order to take the measurements — he could have slipped upstairs when he had come over to speak to Taidgh, or maybe during that welcoming party for Bill Weasley? As quickly as the images filled his mind — Sirius transforming into Padfoot and sneaking up the stairs, or stealthily making his way up under James’ invisibility cloak — he shook them out; if Sirius Black had snuck into his room, he was sure the man would have been physically incapable of leaving without snooping around and leaving a calling card of some sort (as if he was some sort of international jewel thief, taunting the public). Regardless of how he had managed the feit though, the tapestry was a perfect fit on the ceiling.

As outlined in the detailed letter Sirius had sent along with the gift, Hadrian carefully traced the activating commands in the air and watched as his magic lazily swirled upwards and sunk into the cloth, gently shifting the stars until the current night sky was reflected back at him. Grinning with excitement — like a child handed a new toy — Hadrian quickly changed into his sleeping clothes, settled beneath his bedcovers and spelled out the lights in the room. It wasn’t immediate, but a few seconds after the room was plunged into darkness, the stars began twinkling on his ceiling. Hadrian noted with great pleasure that the tapestry had indeed adjusted the brightness of the stars, allowing him to clearly pick out stars and constellations that might not have otherwise been visible at this time of year.

Green eyes immediately searched out Canis Major and easily found Sirius, shining the brightest, a rainbow of colors glittering in the radial arms. Hadrian couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched across his face until his cheeks were throbbing with the strain — he honestly hadn’t expected the tapestry to add _that_ particular detail.

He passed the rest of the time picking out the rest of his families’ namesakes. From Sirius, his eyes slid over to find Orion the hunter by way of the three stars symbolizing his belt — unbidden, the memory of cold blue eyes peering down at his younger self, examining him and finding him wanting, floated to the forefront of his mind before dissipating — then up to the right shoulder for brightly shining Betelgeuse and finally over to the hunter’s left shoulder to land on Bellatrix. He didn’t allow himself to linger too long on that — Bellatrix was always associated with an assortment of unpleasant memories, stretching as far back as their initial introduction when he had been 5 and she 14. Quickly, he searched out the Hydra constellation and found it’s heart — glowing a bright, warm, orange that he felt his father embodied rather well with his bear hugs and prickly kisses — and from there, slid upwards and off to the side to Leo; tracing down its sickle he smiled fondly as he found the brightly shining Regulus.

As he felt his lids start to grow heavy, he quickly passed over Cygnus the Swan — the man himself was prone to drama and seemed to disapprove of everything associated with his younger brother, especially the way that his father smothered him in affection which only made Alphard more prone to his displays because Alphard lived to annoy his elder brother — and found Andromeda. Hadrian had not had the opportunity to get to know his second eldest cousin, but from the short time he had spent with her so far, she seemed rather a lot like Narcissa — a poised, well-bred pureblood woman that also was good-natured — and most likely with a bit of a mischievous streak as well if she had got on so well with Sirius (especially when he was younger and indiscriminately causing chaos wherever he went).

With a jaw-breaking yawn, Hadrian rubbed his eyes and swiped a hand over his face as he tried to force himself to power through but found himself drifting off as soon as he had picked out Draco, stretched out between Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.

That night his dreams were occupied by a large black grim: bounding around him as he hovered just inches off the ground on a toy broom, watching him from the protection of a grove of trees, and circling his legs and getting underfoot on the train platform as he pushed a cart with his school supplies piled high.

He awoke with the memory of hands carding through thick glossy fur and the name ‘Snuffles’ on the tip of his tongue.

*

During the courtship, courting couples were not allowed to be in the same room as one another without a chaperone; visiting either of their actual homes was absolutely out of the question — as confirmed by a smirking Andromeda, her disembodied head floating in the green flames of the fireplace and somehow still managing to look elegant.

_“As long as you can find other people to be your proxy chaperones, though, you could meet at a neutral location,”_ Andromeda had pointed out, a sly smile on her face. _“But remember: no touching!”_

So dinners at the Potters were still allowed — and considering that would be the only way for him to actually see Sirius, he was relieved at the concession. In the mean time, he would have to content himself with owl post.

“Fay!” Taidgh’s voice bellowed from the kitchen. “Come claim your bloody package before I kill this fuckin’ owl!” Hadrian jumped up from the settee he had been dozing on and quickly ran to the kitchen in a bid to protect the innocent courier animal.

“Leave Mina alone!” Hadrian scolded, glaring at his roommate as he allowed the owl to perch on his outstretched arm before cuddling her close to his chest. “She’s just doing her job.”

“Yeah? Well she can do her job without bloody well pecking me to death,” Taidgh threw back with a scowl as he used his wand to cast a disinfecting charm followed swiftly by a basic healing spell to close the abrasions left on his arm from where Mina had apparently attacked him. “What you even got in there? Solid gold bricks? Bloody bird wouldn’t even let me _look_ at it!”

“Don’t get mad,” Hadrian started, trying his hardest to suppress a lovesick grin from spreading across his face as he opened his package and peeked inside.

“That ship’s already sailed, mate.”

Wordlessly, Hadrian held up the well-worn leather jacket that had been carefully packed inside of the box, along with an equally broken in Sisters of Mercy T-shirt.

“Clothing,” Taidgh muttered, glaring at the clothes with a look that could have caused them to spontaneously combust, if he had been any good at wandless magic.

“Clothes with Sirius’ scent,” Hadrian corrected as he quickly cast a preservation charm on both articles — it wouldn’t do for the scent to fade (would defeat the whole purpose of the gift, to be honest). Taidgh just rolled his eyes, shooting one last glare at Mina, before returning to his breakfast. Hadrian swiped a piece of bacon from his plate and quickly offered it to Sirius’ owl before Taidgh could even _think_ of tackling him for it, a reward for the bird’s protection of his gift (though it ended up being unnecessary he still appreciated the thought). Once Mina was fed (and expressed her gratitude with a soft hoot and a quick trial of grooming Hadrian’s hair), Hadrian took the seat opposite Taidgh and read over the accompanying letter Sirius had sent. It was longer than he had expected: talking about his plans for the day — working on his motorbike and annoying Regulus —, complaining about the office politics in the DMLE — he described how he was constantly butting heads with his superiors, but reading between the lines it was quite evident that Sirius seemed to be having problems with the hierarchical nature of the department, in particular —, inquiring after Hadrian (he even tossed in a perfunctory question about Taidgh) before ending with a comment regarding his gift —_ “I hope you enjoy the present I sent along. Figured you might appreciate something to remember me by while we have to follow those ridiculous propriety rules during this courtship.”_ Hadrian grinned, practically able to imagine the air quotes around ‘propriety’ as well as the sneer and eye roll that would have accompanied it.

Hadrian summoned a piece of parchment from one of the kitchen drawers — the one where they kept all the scrap parchment, a pile of quills, some open half-used bottles of ink, and a pack of muggle biros Lily had sent him a while back — and set to drafting up a response. He included a quick mention of the odd dream he had last night — the details were hazy, but he could still clearly recall that large, shaggy-haired Grim that appeared throughout it all — as well as effusive praise for the courtship gift he had received. As he started wrapping up the letter, he was suddenly struck with inspiration and quickly jotted down a brief cheeky line before spelling the ink dry, folding up the letter, then rushing out of the room and bounding up the stairs into his bedroom. Once inside, he started pulling open his drawers and digging through until he found what he was looking for, pulling out the soft fabric with a cry of triumph.

While Hadrian was used to being the beneficiary in the odd gift-giving relationship he and Sirius had fallen into these past couple of years, there was nothing that prevented him from sending Sirius something in kind. It went without saying that Hadrian couldn’t exactly send over any of his clothes — Sirius was broader in the shoulders, longer in the torso and legs, and thicker in the arms and thighs — but scarves were universal. He had picked out two of his old favorites — a large colorful pashmina shawl resplendent in brilliant tones of blue and magenta, and a shimmering lightweight acromantula silk scarf dyed a seafoam green — that he had worn so many times that they surely carried his scent lodged between the fine fibers. He cast a quick preservation charm over both lengths of fabric, before carefully folding and placing them in the paper his own gifts had been delivered in, reusing the twine to carefully package the gift before heading back to the kitchen.

He found Taidgh and Mina having a stand off across the kitchen table, neither participant breaking eye contact. Hadrian thought he could see Taidgh’s eyes begin to twitch and water, a sure sign that the idiot was trying his hardest not to blink. Ignoring the dominance battle occurring, Hadrian stepped up to Mina and carefully attached the shrunken package to her leg and then held out his letter for her to grasp with her beak.

“Hey girl, can you take that back home to Siri for me?” Mina seemed to ignore him, instead choosing to continue her mental battle with Taidgh. They continued on for several more heartbeats before, with a pained groan, Taidgh finally looked away, hands coming up to press on his lids as his eyes began burning from dryness. Mina ruffled her feathers a bit, hooting with a hint of smugness before carefully taking the folded piece of parchment from Hadrian’s fingers and making a leisurely exit, content in her victory.

“Trust Sirius to have such an utter bitch for an owl,” Taidgh muttered as he gratefully accepted the small bottle of eye drops from Hadrian’s outstretched hands.

“You’re unbelievable,” Hadrian said, not even trying to hide the look of disappointed disbelief on his face.

*

Dinner with the Potters was on Sunday. Unfortunately, it was not yet Sunday (Hadrian had already double checked) and so he had to pass the time working until said day arrived.

Fortunately, time was all too happy to slip through his fingers while he camped out in front of a booby-trapped manor, poring over sketches with William Weasley.

“This guy was all over the place,” Hadrian noted in exasperation, his fingers idly tugging on the loose hairs at the end of his plait.

“In what way?” Bill asked, peering at the rough sketches Hadrian had made and trying to see whatever it was that had the older man frustrated.

“He pulled from all sorts of systems. Here,” Hadrian placed one finger on a long vertical line notched with a series of grouped slashes and intermittently interrupted by filled in circles— the original had been found carved into the front doorway of the manor. “He used Ogham, but here,” Hadrian pointed out an intricate sigil they had discovered inscribed into the wood of the front door itself, “he used Galdrastafir and then he also sprinkled in some Futhark — a mix of elder and younger — all over the damn place as well, you know, to add some variety, presumably.” Hadrian rolled his eyes, expressing his thoughts on that particular practice.

“Is that necessarily bad?” Bill questioned, feeling like he was still missing the piece of information that had caused Hadrian to scowl earlier — when he had walked the perimeter of the Manor and made sketches of the runes carved around the exterior. “He could have loved and studied languages for a living. If he actually was adept at these systems, then it wouldn’t be too odd to find him picking and choosing from his toolbox, so to speak. It would also add an extra layer of protection since most people proficient in one would not necessarily be able to make sense of either of the others.”

“That is true,” Hadrian admitted, conceding that Bill’s reasoning was sound. “But I have been studying Galdrastafir for a bit and so I recognized that he had messed around with some of the established sigils — adding in extra notches where it didn’t make sense to place them and leaving out others that would have been essential. Plus, I ran the Ogham transcriptions past our Gaelic experts and they agreed that your man here had a terrible grasp of the language. Looked like he was trying to run with a word-for-word English-to-Gaelic-to-Old Gaelic translation and that usually never turns out well — for people on either side of the magic.”

Hadrian sighed, before looking away from the sketches and into William’s wide blue eyes, prompting a snort of laughter in response.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Bill,” Hadrian began, voice soft as he pulled the redhead in closer. “The most invaluable curse breakers we have, they all picked one runic system that fascinated them and became experts in them — learned to read and use them as if they were just working with English (or whatever their mother tongue is). They billed themselves as “_that_ Ogham guy” or “_that_ Norse guy” and built up a reputation around that and now they’re the first people we think of when we see that stuff. How else you think Gringotts hired and kept Taidgh around?” That last comment elicited a laugh from the younger man, who, by now, was well versed with the various moods and faces of one Taidgh Byrnes.

“You know, Taidgh loves you —” Hadrian quickly shook his head when Bill made to dispute that comment. “No, stop. It’s true. I’ve known the guy longer than you and I can tell he thinks pretty highly of you. Taidgh mentioned how you were interested in Ancient Egyptian and can I just say, you picked a wonderfully exciting system. What’s better than camping out in the sunny desserts of Egypt as you work on excavating all those elaborately defended tombs? Taking apart the magics strand by strand and really using everything you’ve learned in order to escape the traps-within-traps those guys loved using?” Hadrian paused, allowing Bill to work out where he was going with all this, before he threw an arm around the taller man’s shoulder (or tried to anyway).

“What I’m getting at is: you found your niche already, just work on that and in a few years you’ll be in the same position as Taidgh, just with something more exciting than Tree Runes.”

“Tree Runes are fascinating,” Bill protested, weakly — and it seemed he knew it from the flush of his cheeks and the way he wouldn’t look directly into Hadrian’s eyes.

“You’re so sweet,” Hadrian cooed. “But you don’t need to lie. I think Ogham is exciting to work with, but I’m biased since that sort of work suits me — and I’m also best friends with the Ogham expert. A lot of people don’t find it as exciting as us though, probably because you never find it being used to protect large treasure rooms full of gold and jewels, probably.” Hadrian shrugged, looking for all the world unbothered by the tepid reception of their colleagues and contemporaries.

“Alright, what do you say we sneak off to take a break. I know for a fact that your mother packed some of her food for you, and if Lily is to be believed, than I’m not letting you get away without sharing some of that.” Bill rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air, but still herded Hadrian over to the tent he was sharing with his mentor.

*

Sunday finally came, as one would expect if time were to flow in a linear fashion and, unlike Hadrian’s exciting bout of time travel during Hogwarts, time was flowing as it should and there was only ever one Hadrian at any given point in time (at least in this universe, but Hadrian was not going to think about alternative universes at the moment because he had a dinner to get to and he was already running late).

By the time he had let himself into the Potters’ home and made his way through the hallway, he realized that he was the last to arrive. He caught the tail end of the ongoing conversation as he slid into his seat beside Harry — making sure to reach out a hand and ruffle the adorable birds nest atop his head, utter a fond greeting and steal a carrot off the child’s plate — and fixed his own dinner plate.

“What’s this about Peter?” Hadrian asked casually as he looked around the table, noting with amusement the uneasy looks on the three Marauders’ faces.

“Nothing much,” James said, a bit too quickly.

“Oh, nothing exciting,” Remus explained, the corners of his mouth tense as he attempted to offer a disarming smile.

“Who?” Sirius asked, trying and failing to make as if he hadn’t heard the question. Hadrian just rolled his eyes — it was kind of sweet, in a manner, but also incredibly insulting to act as if he would have a meltdown if the others even _mentioned_ Peter Pettigrew’s name.

“Look, I’m not angry with Peter anymore,” Hadrian explained with a sigh, sharing a _look_ with Lily over Harry’s head.

“Oh, but you never really liked —” Hadrian quickly cut Sirius off before he could get any further with that train of thought.

“Woah, woah. Let’s stop that right there. I never said I _liked_ the rat, just that I wasn’t _angry_ with him. Two _very_ different things. Besides,” he paused to cast a quick muffling charm at Harry (Lily would have likely decked him if he had continued speaking without doing so), “you were kind of a dick, Sir, and I still think he’s an idiot for taking your side in that childish spat you had with James.”

“Sir?” Sirius sputtered — trust him to focus on the important things. Well, if that’s what Sirius wanted to change the topic to, Hadrian would happily comply.

Hadrian smirked, green eyes glittering, “I could probably rustle up a few alternative nicknames if Sir doesn’t work for you. James was quite partial to —”

“Alright!” James shouted, voice cracking a bit as his face turned a shade shy of beet red. “I don’t think anyone wants to hear the rest of that sentence, Hadrian.”

“I do,” Lily interjected, an amused smile on her face and a look of curiosity in her eyes, as she looked between Hadrian and James expectantly.

“I don’t,” Sirius grumbled, a pout firm on his lips. Hadrian almost felt bad for the grin that he knew was spreading across his face but he was too busy enjoying the warmth that spread through him as the visible signs of Sirius’ jealousy made itself known. He stretched out his leg beneath the dinner table and bumped Sirius’ calf in an attempt to gain his attention. Once he was caught within the gaze of those grey eyes that he loved so much, he offered his own best ‘kicked puppy’ look and mouthed his apology. He watched as Sirius wavered for a few seconds before finally giving in, gently bumping his leg against Hadrian’s foot that was still nearby and rolling his eyes.

“Looks like this courtship is already proving fruitful,” Remus noted with a grin as he watched the interaction between the couple — the way that Hadrian had so skillfully managed to pull Sirius from one of his infamous sulks without exchanging many words.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Sirius asked, gaze wary as he finally looked away from the intense green eyes that he had been all but captivated by.

“Just that he has you wrapped around his finger,” Lily said, laughing as she moved to dispel the muffling charm around her son — who had started pouting and glaring around the table as he was left out of the conversation.

“I am not,” Sirius squawked, the offense clear on his face.

“Yeah?” Remus cocked a brow, looking over him doubtfully.

“Since when’d you start wearing scarves?” James asked, looking pointedly at the softly shimmering seafoam green fabric draped around his neck.

“What? Can’t a bloke decide to accessorize without being interrogated?”

“Of course you can,” Lily said in that soothing voice she sometimes used on Harry when he was being cranky and unreasonable. “I just vaguely remember Fay wearing the same thing to dinner two weeks back.”

Sirius chose not to answer, though that didn’t stop the rest of the table from laughing as he all but confirmed their theories. As Lily spelled the dishes away to the kitchen, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and trailed behind Hadrian as the group moved to the living room for after-dinner tea, jumping up beside his courtship partner and curling up in his lap on the sofa. Hadrian cooed over his canine form, hands carding through the thick silky fur and gently scratching behind his ears in just the right way.

“You guys are such shit chaperones,” Hadrian idly commented, eyes focused on the way Sirius’ tail happily thumped on the cushions as he transitioned to belly rubs.

“Language,” Lily scolded from where she was helping Harry fix a cup of tea.

“Well, technically, Padfoot’s a dog,” James pointed out, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Meaning the courtship rules don’t apply since you shouldn’t be courting a dog anyway,” Remus continued with an innocent look.

“I swear, Andromeda’s the only one that actually cares about the rules,” Hadrian muttered, though he wasn’t going to continue complaining when he could be enjoying the opportunity to cuddle with Sirius — albeit a dog version of Sirius, but he’d take what he could get.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's staying safe!

Hadrian hummed to himself, wanting to break the silence filling the room, but knowing better than to let his concentration stray from the task at hand — if he had not been in the middle of a card reading, he would have spelled the harpsichord to play something but he _was_ in the middle of a reading so he had to make sure his magic was concentrated on the current task.

Taking in a deep breath and clearing his mind, he focused on the question he was trying to answer before flipping a card onto the table — King of Cups, reversed. With a heavy sigh, he made sure to keep his magic where they were seeped into the deck in hand before placing the next two cards down in quick succession — The Devil, reversed, and the Three of Wands which was upright at least.

He surveyed the chosen cards for a moment longer before allowing his magic to return to his core. Hadrian then grabbed the polaroid camera from the corner of the table to snap a picture of the spread cards. Lily had gifted it to him some years back and it had been thrown into a trunk and forgotten about soon after. Hadrian hadn’t originally known what to do with the still images the machine produced — _who would actually want something so boring?_ — but with his current business, the compact machine had proven very much a valuable component of his dealings with Mrs. Fudge.

“Should I charge extra?” He mused aloud as he watched the polaroid develop and reveal the fruit of that day’s labor. Today was most certainly _not_ Monday, the single day that Hadrian made sure to block off for Mrs. Fudge’s exclusive use — according to the contract that had been drawn up, he was well within his right to charge an extra after-hours fee (something that had been put into place to discourage overzealous consultations).

As he tried to gauge how charitable he was feeling at that moment, he wrote out the interpretation for the cards that had been picked (adding in some quick lines of advice at the end, even though he knew it would be ignored since it directly contradicted his client’s harebrained plans) and attached the polaroid with a sticking charm at the end. By the time he was ready to draw up his invoice, he had finally decided that the fact that he had to do any work at all — at home, in his _pjs_ — was reason enough to charge extra.

With that task completed, he made his way to the fireplace, tossed a pinch of floo powder in followed by the destination address before throwing the folded parchment through the light green flames.

Now that his impromptu office hours were officially over, he was free to do what he had originally planned to do with his day, namely heading over to Grimmauld Place. Normally, such a decision would have been out of the question (since Sirius still lived in the ancestral Black home and the two were not quite at the stage in which home visits were allowed), but he had it on good authority that Sirius would be out of the house that day (Regulus had made sure of it, probably even going so far as kicking his older brother out with instructions to find shelter with one of his friends).

Hadrian made sure to change into clothes more appropriate for a housecall before disapparrating out.

*

Appearing with a soft pop in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place, Hadrian wasn’t expecting anyone to greet him quite yet and so was taken by surprise when something like a thick rope started wrapping around and climbing up his leg. Looking down, he let out a sigh of relief as he recognized Riddle’s familiar.

“Hey Nagini.” Chuckling, he allowed the green serpent to make her way up his body until she could nuzzle her head into the crook of his neck.

“If you’re allowed to run amok like this then your master must not be far behind,” he murmured, gently running a finger over the top of her scaled head. As if in agreement, a tongue slithered out and tickled his exposed skin. Hadrian looked down, checking to make sure the rest of Nagini’s long body had climbed above his hips before attempting to walk.

“What have those two been feeding you?” He huffed incredulously as he stumbled for the third time, the extra weight from the cobra wrapped around his body forcing him off-balance. A sibilant hiss was his only answer, and while Hadrian couldn’t understand snakes like Tom could, he was still certain that Nagini had taken offense to his comment on her weight.

“Don’t glare at me,” he muttered, feeling a bit silly for arguing with a snake. “You know it’s true.”

Somehow, he made it up the stairs and into the drawing room without any additional mishaps.

“Has Nagini been giving you trouble?” Tom enquired from where he was curled up in an armchair, book in hand. Hadrian took a second to absorb the visual, as it was equally as adorable as it was ridiculous, to see such a tall man trying to fold himself enough to fit the entire length of his body into a standard armchair.

“You guys are feeding her too much. She’s easily twice as heavy as the last time I carried her like that. I mean, look at her,” Hadrian cried, gesturing towards the green cobra that was slithering across the floor to find refuge with her master. “That’s not a snake, that’s a fucking tree trunk.”

“Oh, don’t listen to the mean wizard,” Tom cooed soothingly as his familiar rushed into his comforting arms. “He’s just jealous that we can afford to feed you so well.” Nagini, if she could emote beyond what a snake’s anatomical and physiologic face allows it to, seemed to look tearfully and accusingly back at Hadrian from her position huddled around Tom.

“What do you mean by that? I’m not too poor to afford food,” Hadrian whined as he threw himself onto the chaise lounge nearby.

“You must excuse me. One would not know that after taking one look at you.” Tom remarked, eyes the color of garnet trailing pointedly over Hadrian’s body.

“Well, we can’t all lounge around like lazy sloths having house elves do all the work. Some of us have to actually do the work,” Hadrian retorted. “Besides, I’d like to see you maintain your weight when you’re pushing magic into your hands and eyes all day long.” The average wizarding citizen wouldn’t know the relation between magic utilization and caloric requirements — the average wizarding citizen wouldn’t actually need to know such a thing as the relationship wouldn’t be noticeable in their case. Suffice it to say that wandlessly channelling magic into specific parts of the body for long periods of time quickly burns through a body’s glycogen and fat stores.

“So I’ve heard that Sirius has initiated a… courtship.” Tom said, hesitating over the word as if it was a question and not a statement.

“Yes,” Hadrian replied, trying and failing to keep the silly smile off of his face. “And I’ve already received the first gift.”

“I assume it was to your satisfaction,” Tom said, gaze inquisitive. When he saw Hadrian’s pleased expression, he nodded his head in contentment and fell silent again, absent-mindedly caressing Nagini’s scales. Hadrian watched, content to wait for Tom to take the time he needed before saying what was on his mind — it was something that Hadrian had observed over the years and had come to accept as part of Tom’s charm.

“Regulus has become very…”

“Pushy?” Hadrian filled in, laughing at the resigned look that answer prompted from Tom.

“One could put it like that… though I think it’s more that he’s become a bit impatient and I find myself in a very… uncertain position.”

“Is this about the portraits?” Hadrian asked, faintly recalling Regulus ranting and raving about the fact that none of the Blacks had had their portraits completed yet.

“Oh, has he been talking about that with you as well?” Tom didn’t looked all that surprised at the information, just resigned.

“He mentioned it some time ago. He was a bit tipsy so I didn’t really pay it that much mind, to be honest.”

“Well, it has been his favorite topic of conversation these days. The part that worries me is how… scared?… he sounds when he broaches the subject.” Hadrian took a moment to enjoy the look of worry on Tom’s face — filing it away in a mental cabinet of reasons why Tom Riddle was adorable — before addressing his concern.

“Regulus just wants to make sure that when he dies, you’ll have a portrait of him at his most attractive. Our Regulus isn’t usually so vain, but he really hates the idea of being captured when he’s older than you.” It was why Regulus was pushing everyone to sit for their wizarding portraits — _“You never know what could happen. Look at dear old mum! She kept putting off her portrait sitting and then right before she was to go for it (and while she was visually at her worst) she dies! Now we don’t have a portrait of her. I mean, that’s not too great of a loss in hindsight, but I just don’t even want to think of how I would feel if that same situation happened to any one of you. And then there’s Tom! He’ll surely outlive me, and maybe he’ll move on and find someone else and maybe he won’t, but either way I want to be there for him. He’ll get dreadfully lonely otherwise.“_

"But he also wants to make sure that when the time comes that you outlive him — you know, being a dhampir and all — that he’ll be able to keep you company as a portrait at least. For all of his negative qualities, of which they are innumerable, he really cares for you, Riddle.”

Hadrian didn’t know if he helped — he really hoped that he was able to explain Regulus’ thinking at the least — but Tom had that thoughtful look on his face, so it wasn’t a complete failure.

*

**From: Hadrian Black**   
**To: Sirius Black**

_Morning! Enjoy your day at the office terrorizing poor old ladies or whatever it is that you do._

-

**From: Sirius Black**   
**To: Hadrian Black**

_Oh how wonderful it must be to live such a indulgent and carefree life that 11am is when you slip out of bed to write me your morning_ _greetings._

_P.s. I don’t terrorize old ladies. They find me quite_ _charming._

-

**From: Hadrian Black**   
**To: Sirius Black**

_Oh, but the spell I cast in the morning has obviously worked. Here I have in my possession a written confession (though you should know better) of one Auror Black admitting to being preoccupied with thoughts of their irresistible courting partner lounging around in bed, body warm and pliant from sleep, before slipping out of the safety of the covers to send a letter to their beloved — why? Well surely because he was all this one could think of all night and it was to thoughts of their handsome suitor that they awoke to._

_P.s. Good night. I hope your dreams are as filled with me as mine are of you._

-

**From: Sirius Black**   
**To: Hadrian Black**

_My dear Fay has nothing to fear: my thoughts are filled with nothing but you both night and day._

_P.s. Strictly speaking, this is considered a courting gift and not a breach of propriety._

Hadrian couldn’t help the giddy feeling welling up within him as he read Sirius’ latest message. He had had very conflicting feelings about sending that previous message — feeling that it was much too bold and could very well push Sirius away (skittish as he was). He had had to contend with the feeling of his bowels twisting themselves into ever increasingly tight knots as he paced the length of his room and back in anticipation for Sirius’ response.

Hadrian picked up the shrunken piece of paper that had been attached to the end of the parchment and examined it briefly — he noted that it appeared to be the July section of a calendar, but all other details were inscrutable due to the current size. Grabbing his wand off of the side table he normally kept it on when sleeping, Hadrian reversed the charm and was able to finally appreciate the calendar spread in all its glory.

Hadrian had heard of the charity calendar the Auror Department produced annually, but as he had no use for the standard calendar most people used, he had quickly forgotten about it completely. Looking at what he had in his hands though, Hadrian realized that it wasn’t the calendar portion that made the product so popular.

Face flushed red and mouth instantly void of all moisture, he intently took in the gift so kindly provided to him.

It was Sirius, that was for sure. It was Sirius most definitely fully nude with only his beloved beast of a motorcycle preventing the entirety of wizarding Britain from seeing what Hadrian had always been certain was a very lovely cock. Eyes raked over the play of muscles that rippled as photo-Sirius raised an arm to push the hair out of his eyes before flashing a grin at Hadrian.

*

Sirius watched as Hadrian chased Harry around the backyard of Godric’s Hallow, Hadrian’s toothless threats and Harry’s pealing laughter ringing through the air. He continued watching as a small army of redheaded children rushed to Harry’s defense and tackled Hadrian to the ground; the Black played along and pretended to fall to the might of Harry’s rescue party, trying and failing to hide the amusement on his face. One small blond girl — the Lovegood child most likely — approached Hadrian with what looked like a flower crown and seemed to be entering into some sort of negotiation with the help of the older child — the Diggory boy perhaps — at her side. Sirius observed as the Weasley children parted and allowed Hadrian to at least sit up so that he could continue discussion with Lovegood and Diggory; eventually, they seemed to have reached an agreement as Lovegood smiled sweetly and placed her rather skillfully made flower crown atop of Hadrian’s play ruffled hair. Sirius smiled at the picture Hadrian made, long hair falling haphazardly out of his braid, green eyes crinkled slightly as he laughed and carefully adjusted the daisy crown so that it would stay put — most likely with the help of a gentle sticking charm as well — before gracefully bowing to the Lovegood girl and then Diggory boy stood vigilant at her side.

“You’re smitten,” Remus remarked with amusement, sitting across from Sirius and cradling a bottle of butterbeer. From beside the besotted Black, James laughed and jostled his friend with a shoulder.

“Pads, the Hogwarts Lady Killer, now mooning over a man playing with children. Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” James wailed theatrically playfully collapsing into the waiting arms of his wife who had just approached the table.

“Well,” Lily began, mischief sparkling in her green eyes indicating that no good was to come of her next words. “We all know that that phase was really just Sirius’ gay panic.” As Sirius squawked in indignation, Lily hid behind her husband cackling with glee.

“Is that bisexual erasure I hear from thee, Lily J Evans?” Remus cried out, dramatically pointing an accusatory finger at the red head.

“From moi?” Lily gasped, her expression appearing as offended as if Remus had just accused her of something truly heinous. “Never!”

“Good,” Remus replied, a mischievous grin starting to form on his lips. “Sirius is a whore —“

“But he’s our whore! A damn fine one at that” James interrupted, slinging an arm around Sirius who had decided to bury his face into his hands.

“But, I think we all agree that the “phase” was a bit of an excessive overcorrection there, Pads.”

“Am I allowed to defend myself yet,” Sirius groaned, voice muffled by his hands.

“No.” The other three responded unrepentantly.

*

As the sky grew darker and the children tired out from their play, the parents tucked them all away into the tent that had been set up earlier for such a situation.

It was officially the end of Harry Potter’s birthday party and the start of Hadrian Black’s celebration.

The butterbeer was replaced with the good Firewhiskey and Elven wine, and the music was turned up and to something more to their tastes. With their kids protected between layers and layers of wards and silencing spells, the adults could relax and enjoy themselves thoroughly.

Hadrian had already managed to go through two glasses of elven wine and was well on his way through his third when he finally spotted Sirius hiding out by the tree line, lit cigarrette in hand. Hadrian turned back and surveyed the party behind him, spotting James and Lily laughing with the Longbottoms and Remus sitting with Taidgh and Bill Weasley — none of them even trying to keep tabs on either of the Blacks that they were supposed to be chaperoning.

Seeing the opportunity for what it was, Hadrian carefully made his way over to where he could see the faint red glow and trail of smoke indicating Sirius’ position; for someone who was now past the point of tipsy and well on his way to being completely smashed, he somehow crossed the distance without making a sound or — and this was the greater achievement in his opinion — tripping and falling flat on his face.

With a sly grin, Hadrian smoothly sidled up to Sirius’ side, slipping an arm around Sirius’ free one and catching the other Black by surprise, grey eyes widening as they snapped over to him.

“Hey,” Hadrian whispered, unable and unwilling to suppress the giggles that followed the greeting. Sirius looked down and spotted the half-empty glass of wine in Hadrian’s hand before it was hidden from view.

“I see that you’re enjoying the wine,” Sirius said, relaxing into the other’s hold and banishing both his cigarette and Hadrian’s glass of wine. When Hadrian registered the sudden emptiness in his hand, he pouted up at his suitor.

“That was only my third glass,” he whined, repositioning himself so that he now stood in front of Sirius.

“Oh is that so? _Only_ your third glass,” Sirius replied, cocking an eyebrow in silent judgement.

“Who tattled? Reggie?” Hadrian asked, eyebrows narrowed in displeasure as he leaned more heavily onto Sirius’ chest.

“I think not. He finds this all amusing.” Sirius reassured with a shake of his head. “Cissa did.” Looking down, Sirius took in the sight of Hadrian’s hair and let out a bark of laughter at the state of it — half of it had escaped the braid it had started out in while some of it tangled around the daisy chain that was still stubbornly placed on his head though looking a bit worse for wear. Hadrian closed his eyes with a contented sigh, as he nestled his head into Sirius chest as the other carefully fixed the mess that had become of his hair, settling on just undoing the braid completely and untangling the strands from his flower crown. After casting a series of quick charms to return the daisy chain to it’s former glory and then preserve it, he carefully began carding his fingers through Hadrian’s loose hair, making sure to be gentle when he stumbled on the knots that had inevitably worked their way in there.

“That was very mean of you,” Hadrian said, voice muffled by the cotton of Sirius’ shirt.

“What was?” Sirius asked, arms dropping to wrap around Hadrian’s waist.

“Sending that picture of you.” Hadrian looked up, making sure to catch Sirius’ eyes so that he was sure the other could properly appreciate his pout.

“Did you not like it?” Sirius asked, coyly, enjoying the flush blooming across Hadrian’s cheeks.

“I quite liked the photo,” he denied, looking away in embarrassment. “I hate that you were taking them for other people while ignoring me.”

Sirius hummed in thought, taking a moment to look up at the night sky. “Yeah, I suppose I _was_ very mean,” he said, so softly that Hadrian had to strain to hear it.

“Well,” Hadrian started, letting out a heavy sigh. “I suppose I _could_ forgive you, since you’re going through all the trouble of a proper courtship.”

Sirius turned back to stare down at the crown of Hadrian’s head in consideration.

“How much time you reckon we got, before they come searching for us?” At that, Hadrian titled his head up, green eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. They’ve all completely forgotten about us, and it’s _my_ birthday they’re celebrating.”

Sirius grinned that wolfish grin that always made Hadrian’s heart skip a beat, before leaning down and nipping gently at Hadrian’s bottom lip.

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured before moving back in. Hadrian sighed happily into the kiss, winding his arms around Sirius’ neck, threading his fingers into the thick hair and tugging gently in encouragement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus looked up, feeling as if he was supposed to be doing something. Taidgh watched him, smirk firmly in place because unlike everyone else, he actually _did_ remember. 
> 
> "Wait, where's Hadrian and Sirius?" Remus asked, standing up to see if he could spot either of the two. Taidgh, laughing, tugged Remus back into his seat. 
> 
> "Sit down. You're in no state to go running around." Which wasn't a lie considering the litter of empty firewhiskey bottles piled in front of the two. "Besides, I've been keeping an eye on them. They're no where near each other, so relax." 
> 
> Taidgh made sure to keep his face open, friendly, and vaguely like the sort you could trust while Remus stared for a long minute. Finally, the werewolf shrugged his shoulders and went back to answering a question that Bill had asked before that episode of clarity had hit. When it looked as if Remus had completely dropped the matter, Taidgh let out a sigh of relief and allowed himself to take another sip of his firewhiskey as a reward.
> 
> _Taidgh_ wasn't a chaperone, so he didn't really feel the need to keep the two Blacks separated. He considered it his gift to the birthday boy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courtship date #2. Only one more to go! (Don't worry, we're not even half-way through the story yet).

The day of the second courtship date, Hadrian awoke to the site of two very mutilated doxies delicately placed on the pillow beside his face, their small innards resting on the soft silk fabric. Eyes wide in shock, he scrambled away from the crime scene, his enthusiasm sending him tumbling over the side of the bed and onto the floor with a thud loud enough to summon Taidgh to the doorway. Taking in the damage, Taidgh winced before pulling his wand out to banish the mess. Both men then turned to look at the culprit, perched proudly on the headboard and attempting to clean the gore from their paws.

“Athena, sweetie, how many times have I told you that while I appreciate your mothering, doxies simply are _not_ a part of my diet.” Hadrian scolded lightly, having recovered from his shock. He opened his arms so that she could jump into them, making sure to butt her head under his chin and mewl apologetically.

Taidgh rolled his eyes and shook his head as he saw that Hadrian had only been able to hold his scowl for the slightest of seconds before he began cooing over the feline. Now, said feline was looking much too smug for Taidgh’s tastes, especially after the stunt it pulled just moments ago.

“So, when is Daisy supposed to stop by?” Taidgh asked, removing the pillow from its stained case and inspecting it for any collateral damage. Deemed unspoiled, he threw it back on the bed and spelled the stained case to the laundry room.

“Hmm, most likely in a hour or two. Leaves me with just enough time for a shower and breakfast,” Hadrian responded after checking the letter said chaperone had sent over the previous night.

“Oh? This not one of those sit down dates?” Taidgh asked, brows raised in curiosity.

“Nah, much more casual than that. Still don’t now where we’re going, but traditionally the second date is usually more laid back than the other two.” Hadrian said, placing Athena up onto one of her favorite perches in the room — a very soft, very large cushion that Hadrian had charmed to float with a rune sewn into the bottom — before entering the bathroom.

“Then again,” he continued, knowing that Taidgh hadn’t left the room yet and was probably listening while simultaneously antagonizing his cat. “Courtships aren’t usually initiated by people that have known each other their whole lives.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think anyone would ever mistake either of you for ‘usual’.” Taidgh teased, yelping as he felt a small welt forming from where the stinging hex had collided with his waist.

*

“So, I know that chaperones are supposed to be neutral third-parties and all that jazz, but can I just say that Sirius has _absolutely_ won me over with today’s choice in venue,” Daisy gushed — _gushed_ — as the pair apparated in to the meeting spot which turned out to be the entrance to the Botanical Gardens of London. Hadrian watched in amusement as Daisy walked over to the rest of their small party, a spring to her step as she all but dragged Hadrian along.

“Good morning,” Hadrian greeted, nodding in Sirius’ direction and dropping a kiss on Andromeda’s cheek.

“Good afternoon,” she corrected in turn, eyebrow raised as if to ask whether he really considered the current time — which was most definitely past noon — as still part of the morning.

“As far as Fay is concerned, this is morning,” Sirius teased with a look of fondness.

Hadrian rolled his eyes at that but still accepted the outstretched arm for an excuse to cling to Sirius while under the watchful eyes of their strict and vigilant chaperones. Andromeda considered them for a long minute, eyes narrowed in thought, before letting out the softest of snorts and deciding to leave them be.

“I feel terrible for saying so, considering my family, but this is actually the first time I’ve ever been to the gardens,” Hadrian admitted as the group walked past the entrance and into a large courtyard decorated with statues and informational boards.

“I’ll try and not take offense,” Daisy called out, her voice full of mirth.

As they approached one of the larger statues, Hadrian slowed down to inspect the engraving.

“Cassandra Malfoy,” he read aloud in surprise. “Did you know that?” He asked, turning around to look at Sirius who shook his head. Turning to face their chaperones, it was obvious that both of the women already knew that bit of information.

“Cassandra Malfoy was one of those rebellious Malfoys that are produced every couple generations or so,” Andromeda began. “She lived for two things: to garden and to annoy her family. So at some point, she had the brilliant idea to combine her two passions and created this botanical garden — designed the original building, planned out several exhibits and then paid for it’s construction before handing the entire thing over to the Magical Botanists Guild. Which was what really annoyed her parents — that they basically single-handedly funded a public project.”

“Of course there were some strings attached, when we received the gardens,” Daisy added, looking excited that she could finally share her knowledge on the matter. “I’m a member of the guild,” she explained, upon seeing the curious looks on the two non-Greengrasses faces. “We had to leave the original building and gardens intact, but were allowed to expand the project with additions; she named it the Malfoy Botanical Gardens of London and wrote that no one could change it; and then there were financial specifics regarding profit generated from the gardens and how it would split between upkeep and research.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Hadrian offered, as they entered the main building and stopped before a large interactive map.

“She was a reasonable sort. It’s the family that wasn’t,” Daisy retorted. “You know her portrait is in the guild’s main office?”

“What? I thought all Malfoy portraits were hung within the manor, regardless of how the family felt about any particular member.” Andromeda asked, sounding at once both scandalized and intrigued.

“That was one of her other conditions,” Daisy explained with a flippant wave of her hand. “I’ve talked to her on a handful of occasions — mostly while working on my projects. She might be going on 400 years, but she still knows what she’s talking about.”

The group stared at the map before them, taking in the full scale of the operation.

“Well, I guess there’s a reason this is the guild’s pride and joy,” Andromeda said with a heavy sigh, already feeling overwhelmed as she scanned through all the exhibits available.

“Largest public garden in wizarding europe!” Daisy chirped, only looking more and more energized. “So, these,” she pointed out disconnected sections of the map that had been greyed out — in comparison to the rest of the brightly colored map — “are the experimental exhibits. They’re off limits and heavily warded besides, so no need to worry about them.”

“Are there any… interactive exhibits?” Sirius asked.

Daisy took a minute to scan the map before her, picking out a selection of destinations. “There’s the carnivorous plant exhibit (you can hand feed the plants!), the gossip fields (home to some very large and very talkative flowers that can actually hold a decent conversation — though they can be a bit mean at times), and the hedge maze (always a hit). Considering that we’re here,” she pointed at the blinking light that signified their party, “I’d think the hedge maze would be the closest.”

“Oh good.” With a sly grin, Sirius leant down and it took all of Hadrian’s concentration to focus on the words being relayed in that low, gentle rumble, instead of the feel of those lips gently brushing the shell of his ear. “Let’s ditch them.”

He had only just nodded in agreement before Sirius took off in a sprint, Hadrian desperately trying to match pace. Sirius led the way, ducking and weaving a path through the crowds — sometimes forcing people to jump out of the way with indignant shouts — letting out a bark of laughter; Hadrian chanced a peek back and saw that they were rapidly leaving behind a bewildered Daisy and a very exasperated (but not surprised) Andromeda.

Soon, the crowds began to thin out, but it still wasn’t enough for them to slow down; as they barreled down hedge-lined paths, skidded around corners with no thought and ducked through an archway that had conveniently materialized and led them to a dead end, they finally decide it was safe. Only then did they stop to catch their breaths, doubled over with hands gripping their knees for support and their ribs and respiratory muscles screaming and aching from the sudden and intense work. Despite this, the laughs of exhilaration couldn’t be contained and the broad silly grins that exposed much too many teeth could not be hidden.

“Sorry for the unscheduled physical exertion,” Sirius said (once he could finally catch his breath and stand upright) though his expression was thoroughly unrepentant. “You have to admit, though, our date was starting to feel more like a group trip.” Hadrian nodded, still too breathless to respond verbally and allowed himself to collapse into Sirius who was ready to support his weight with an arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders.

“Now that we’ve ditched our chaperones, let’s have a bit of fun, hmm?” Sirius said, peering around and taking in their surroundings. Hadrian watched as Sirius led them in one slow circle around the space they had thoughtlessly ran into, grey eyes scanning along the tall green hedges that seemed to tower almost intimidatingly above them.

“You have much experience with magical mazes?” Sirius inquired absently, now pulling his wand out to scan a spot that had caught his attention.

“Not really,” Hadrian began, taking the opportunity to gently lean his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Gareth — Mum’s cousin — had built a very simple one for Daphne’s birthday, but otherwise no one else is particularly fond of them.”

“You know who really enjoys them? The Lestranges,” Sirius said, voice dark and mouth curled into a fierce scowl. “They have an extensive one on the grounds of their manor in France.”

Hadrian had heard of the Lestrange family’s gift with creating elaborate — usually dangerous and oftentimes deadly — hedge mazes, but had thankfully never had reason to visit one of their creations in person.

“Papa isn’t fond of them, so he would always make excuses not to go if we ever received an invitation,” Hadrian explained, voice hushed as he recalled his father cursing up a storm with every invitation delivered before setting said pieces of parchment alight. His mother, who would usually admonish such a crass display, would always hold her tongue for those particular moments, her own face a perfect picture of disdain. Eventually, the invitations stopped coming and Hadrian could happily ignore the existence of the Lestranges (until cousin Bella went and married one of them).

“I have a feeling, in hindsight, that my father also couldn’t stand them. Unfortunately, he was the head of the main branch so we couldn’t do the same.” Sirius said, leading the pair through the path he had finally unveiled. “And I don’t think they liked us much either. Rodolphus would always drop me and Reggie off in one of the mazes. The first handful of times, I swear to Circe, it took us the entire day to find a way out.”

Hadrian shuddered at the thought of a small child being forced to traverse a Lestrange maze.

With every corner they turned, and every archway that welcomed them, Sirius seemed to gain confidence and soon was relaxed enough that Hadrian could pretend that they were just out for a quick stroll, leisurely winding their way through a particularly well tended garden, arm in arm.

“Eventually, having to claw our way out year after year, we started getting better — learned all their nasty little tricks. In the end, the Lestranges refused to allow me and Reggie anywhere near their grounds, angry and embarrassed at how we avoided all their traps as if walking through a maze made for a child, instead of one that would kill you if you took the wrong path.” Sirius had a rather predatory grin, grey eyes distant as he mentally relived the moment. “They’re still famous for their mazes, of course, but to be honest,” he said, looking down and winking. “I think they’re really starting to run out of ideas.” Hadrian grinned, delighted at the prospect and feeling a warmth of pride swelling within him on Sirius’ behalf.

They walked in companionable silence, occasionally sneaking peaks at one another and exchanging content smiles when their eyes happened to meet.

“And here we are,” Sirius announced, bowing slightly with a flourish as they finally reached the exit.

“My brilliant hero,” Hadrian gushed, fluttering his lashes playfully. Sirius bumped his shoulder gently with a gruff laugh; Hadrian was able to catch the red flush to his cheeks but chose not to comment as they walked aimlessly around the grounds.

“Would be a terrible courtship date, if I managed to not only separate you from your chaperone but also got you lost in a magical maze. Merlin, could you imagine what Andromeda would do to me if that had happened?” Sirius shuddered in horror at the mental image of their elder cousin’s fury in the proposed scenario.

“Why are you focusing on Andromeda,” Hadrian asked curiously. “Papa would be much worse.” Sirius’ face drained of all color at the thought — if Alphard Black had ever learned that Sirius had stolen and stranded his only child, death would be preferable to whatever fate would have been in store for him.

Hadrian shook his head and poked Sirius’ immobile form, prompting him to continue walking. Some minutes into the latest leg of their leisurely journey, Hadrian noticed a building that looked more like an observatory than a green house and was immediately overtaken with curiosity. Wordlessly, he tugged on Sirius’ arm and led the man over to their new destination. The pair took in the signs posted on the door, declaring the building as one of the many guild research stations and barely gave it another thought before walking inside.

As he took in the sight before him, Hadrian let out a delighted gasp, releasing his hold on Sirius so that he could make his way further in.

The floor was barely visible over the ocean of white lotus flowers covering the entire area of the building; their large pearlescent petals spread out and appearing to softly reflect moonlight. There was no moon present to provide such light though, as this was an enclosed building and beyond that it was (at most) late afternoon with the sun having very much been present just moments before. Instead, lightly floating orbs of light dotted the air above the flowers and as one passed before Hadrian, he could clearly see the delicate figure of a night fairy dozing as its magic carefully kept it aloft.

Hadrian reached back to grasp Sirius’ hand and led him to the center of the room before pulling him along to lie on the ground.

“This is actually one of Daisy’s research projects,” Hadrian confided, once they had positioned themselves so that Hadrian was tucked into Sirius’ side, head nestled on the other’s chest. “These are moonlight lotuses, which usually only open their petals at night under a full moon. Daisy figured out a way to alter the internal clock mechanics so that they would open in the dark with fairy light instead,” Hadrian explained, almost beaming with pride at his cousin’s brilliance. “The glowing petals are really useful in some complicated potions, so this is something that the Potion’s Guild is also keeping an eye on.”

“Sounds impressive,” Sirius commented, nuzzling the top of Hadrian’s head, just enjoying the sound of his partner’s voice.

“How was today?” Sirius asked, voice soft as they watched the sleeping fairies drift by. “Any plans on cancelling the courtship?” He joked, voice light and playful.

“Of course not!” Hadrian cried out, rolling over and straddling Sirius so that they faced each other. “Unless you want me to,” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sirius pretended to think over his answer, though quickly shouted his denial through laughter as Hadrian growled in outrage, pounding the chest beneath him. Chuckling, Sirius caught the flailing arms by the wrist and tugged Hadrian down so that the tips of their noses touched.

“I’m sorry, Fay. That wasn’t very funny,” he apologized, looking contrite. Hadrian continued to glare at him suspiciously, pout firmly in place. Sirius leant in and nipped at the tempting lip, grinning at the yelp he received in turn. “I’ll make it up to you?” He promised, warm breath ghosting over Hadrian’s lips and grey eyes looking up to gauge the other’s reaction as he leant in, sharp teeth gently nibbling on his lower lip, tugging on it playfully before releasing it.

“You better,” Hadrian murmured before Sirius leant forward and cut off the rest of his words. His lips were soft yet demanding, his tongue wicked as it plundered warm depths and laid claim to all it could reach. Hadrian whimpered and pressed closer as his moans were greedily swallowed up, hips rocking and seeking out friction as he felt himself burning up from the inside. He felt Sirius’ growl reverberate through his bones as he pulled back, dragging teeth and tongue down along the tender flesh of Hadrian’s neck, leaving impressions and purpled skin in their wake — staking his claim. Hadrian reach out, fingers tangling with Sirius’ hair, tugging the strands in encouragement and holding him closer, enjoying the attention and wanting more.

Hadrian felt his muscles relax, his bones turn to jello, and his body fall into Sirius’ as the other slowly worked their way back up Hadrian’s neck; hands gripped his hips, most likely leaving marks behind with the force used, as he stilled Hadrian’s seeking hips and slowly guided them out of their frenzied lust. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, tongues gently sliding against each other, coaxing soft sighs and muffled whimpers.

“That’s it,” Sirius murmured as they parted, foreheads resting together as they appraised one another. “Just one more date.” It was both reminder and reassurance.

“One more,” Hadrian echoed, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. He felt Sirius reposition their bodies so that they were now side-by-side.

“Don’t know how you do it, Siri,” Hadrian said, shaking his head, finding new respect for the other man.

“It’s the stubbornness,” he replied with an easy grin, before turning onto his side, so that he could look into Hadrian’s eyes. “I fucked up. And then kept fucking up for a couple years after that. I feel like I owe you at least this much.”

Hadrian smiled at him, patting a cheek to show his appreciation. “I still want to kill you and the only thing holding me back is knowing that if you’re dead, this fucking courtship will never end.”

Hadrian watched in appreciation as Sirius threw his head back and laughed — the sound full and deep, rumbling through his whole body —, allowing himself to enjoy the sound for a few more seconds before standing and attempting to adjust his hair and clothes.

“I suppose we should get back?” He said, figuring that they looked as presentable as they could hope for. Sirius accepted the help up before using his grip to tug Hadrian in close so that he could steal one more kiss before they departed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about the second gift,” Sirius said as they found their witches carefully feeding slices of raw meat to the carnivorous plants that had entirely too much freedom of movement for Hadrian’s comfort.
> 
> “I have more faith in you than that,” Hadrian said looking at his partner with admonishment.
> 
> “Probably not your best idea,” Sirius teased. “The second gift is for the family, so I’d wait until you hear from your parents before making any judgments.”
> 
> Hadrian looked up in shock, a feeling of dread starting to well up within him, but before he could follow up with the half-formed questions on the tip of his tongue, the pair were finally spotted and immediately pelted with pieces of meat that felt and smelt fresh from the butcher.


	6. Chapter 6

“HADRIAN ALPHARD BLACK!”

When Hadrian had gone to bed last night, he had quickly fallen into a deep, content sleep. He had dreamt of sun-warmed skin, barking laughter, tracing dark runic tattoos with a teasing fingertip; he had dreamt of slow leisurely kisses and a comfortable domestic scene. He had been fully prepared to wake up in a daze, one foot still in that warm and cozy dreamworld, the other tangled in sleep warmed sheets.

“WAKE UP! WAKE UP RIGHT NOW!”

What he had not factored into his ideals of awakening in the morning, were his mother’s head floating in his bedroom fireplace or the shrill voice that she favored when she had reached the end of her patience.

“Don’t even get dressed,” She said, when she spotted him sitting straight up in bed. “I expect you through the floo within the next 5 minutes.” And as quickly as she had entered his bedroom, she left, her warning hanging heavy in the air.

Hadrian quickly scrabbled to find a pair of pajama bottoms he had tossed over a chair before bed and the dressing gown he kept somewhere near the bathroom door — he really wouldn’t have any more time than that for more appropriate clothes so his parents would just have to suffer their son’s bare chest.

With some seconds to spare, Hadrian stumbled through the floo, appearing in the living room of his childhood home to find one very displeased mother and one very excited father.

“Here I am,” Hadrian announced before letting out a loud yawn that was quickly cut off with a gasp as his mother shot a breath freshening charm his way. “So,” he started carefully, hands nervously running through his hair knowing that it was mostly beyond help anyway before his morning shower.

“Look at what that suitor of yours has done,” Penelope cried in dismay, hands thrown out to violently gesture at the elephant in the room — which was conspicuously in the form of a large motorcycle that looked as if it had seen better days.

“Sirius sent you a motorcycle… as a courting gift?” Hadrian asked unable to keep the horror out of his voice. Penelope Black’s distaste of the contraptions was very well documented, so it was surprising that Sirius would think that this would win his parents over.

“Not just any old one, either. OH NO! That wouldn’t be good enough for that chaotic mutt,” his mother moaned out, burying her face in her hands, unwilling to say anymore — though that was no great loss, as Alphard was all too glad to pick up from where his wife could no longer continue.

“It’s mine!” Hadrian idly noted that the grin on his father’s face was the largest and brightest he had seen yet. “This is the one that I had before I met your mother! The one that I had to sell when we had you.” Alphard trailed off, gazing at his gift with wide adoring eyes that were half-filled with disbelief — as if their present situation was but a wildly elaborate prank.

“Why’d you sell it in the first place?” Hadrian asked curiously, slowly making his way to his father’s side. Alphard shot a furtive glance at his wife, but while Penelope Black’s physical body was collapsed on the settee, her mind was obviously otherwise preoccupied.

“Your mother insisted that it wouldn’t be safe to carry you around on it. Even when I promised I wouldn’t do such a thing until you were old enough to be trusted, she wouldn’t budge. Marched me straight to our solicitor who immediately found a buyer later that day. Which just shows it was a great specimen.” The last part was muttered under his breath, petulantly, so that only Hadrian could hear.

“I’m glad you got your bike back, Papa.” Hadrian said, wrapping his beaming father into a congratulatory hug.

“You know, maybe Siri isn’t so bad after all. He’s obviously taking good care of you. And now the family,” Alphard murmured, hands gently caressing the leather seating and noting what he would need to fix or replace.

“So my wily byronic rake finally won you over?” Hadrian teased, flopping down across the back of his father’s bent form. Alphard grabbed the arms that had been slung carelessly over his shoulders and hefted his son into a piggy-back carry as he stood straight.

“Suppose he has. As they always do.” Alphard conceded, a gentle look in his eyes as he nuzzled his son’s soft skin and left a scratchy kiss on his cheek. “You’ve got him trained well.”

Hadrian only laughed. “I can’t exactly claim credit for all of this. I’m sure some life experience played a role. We _are_ almost 30, you know.”

“Ach, don’t remind me.” Alphard groaned, allowing his son to hop off and onto solid ground.

Watching the way his father was carefully eyeing his gift, no doubt coming up with his repair plans, Hadrian thought back to Sirius’ words the other day.

This gift was for the family. Sure. But it was pretty obvious that this was a calculated move on his part to win over Alphard — Penelope had already had a soft spot for Sirius and was a lot more supportive of the courtship. Now though, neither one would have objections to their eventual engagement.

_I have more faith in you than that_, Hadrian had said back then. Taking in the scene in his childhood home, he couldn’t find fault with his instinct.

*

**From: Hadrian**   
**To: Sirius**

_A motorcycle? Really, Siri? What if this had turned out to be a massive failure? What then?_

-

**From: Sirius**   
**To: Hadrian**

_Ah. But it wasn’t. By your response, I think it was a massive success, hm? I bet Uncle Alfie couldn’t look away from it. Am I right, or am I right?_

-

**From: Hadrian**   
**To: Sirius**

_Of course you’re right, you smug pillock. Though you pushed my mother to break her own rules on day drinking. Hope you’re proud of yourself for that._

-

**From: Sirius**   
**To: Hadrian**

_Oh, poor Aunt Penny. I’m sure she wasn’t expecting that. But according to my calculations, she should be able to come to a sort of acceptance within the week, so I’m not too worried. But, how has my dear Fay taken the reveal? Ready to eat your words?_

-

**From: Hadrian**   
**To: Sirius**

_Oh shut up. Of course I’m not. I’ve never seen my father so excited. It was like he was 5 again. He’s now spending all of his free time working on repairs. He refuses to allow anyone else to touch his baby._

_P.s. Of course you had calculations in place before this stunt. And here we were, thinking that you just let your “intuition” guide_ _you._

-

**From: Sirius**   
**To: Hadrian**

_Does it make me more irresistible? Now that you know of the clever brain controlling this devilishly handsome body?_

_P.s. You still have my little gift? I have a whole stack of unreleased photos from that shoot that I could send your way. If you’re good, that is._

-

**From: Hadrian**   
**To: Sirius**

_I’m just glad to know that there’s a brain in there doing any planning at all, to be honest. Though I was fully prepared to be the brains in this relationship. Obviously, you’re the muscle._

_And don’t be ridiculous. Of course I still have the photo. I’m not so heartless as to throw away a gift from my suitor._

_P.s. Now that’s an interesting condition. Aren’t I always good?_

_[ 1 attachment included with letter ]_

-

**From: Sirius**   
**To: Hadrian**

_Now that was just naughty. You know how much I love the sight of you wearing the clothes that I’ve picked out for you. Though, I do believe that those robes are meant to be worn with the clasps done up._

_P.s. Your cock is as lovely as the rest of you. And your cheeky little picture has riled me up into quite the state. What do you have to say for yourself?_

-

**From: Hadrian**   
**To: Sirius**

_I would only like to remind you that when I was in a similar situtation, you made the decision to do the honorable thing and pull back, leaving me very much unsatisfied. What do you have to say in your defence?_

-

**From: Sirius**   
**To: Hadrian**

_Only that if I had allowed myself to indulge in your lovely self, that I would not have been able to act with any restraint. I would have had you face down in those lovely flowers, screaming out my name as I broke the terms of our courtship in the_ _pursuit of our mutual pleasure._

-

**From: Hadrian**   
**To: Sirius**

_I can only say that I appreciate that you’ve grown enough to value the terms of our courtship over your own physical needs. Just wish that I could show my appreciation in another manner, though I’ve been reliably informed, that that is what the engagement is for._

_Good night, Siri. I hope your dreams are plagued with nothing but me._

-

**From: Sirius**   
**To: Hadrian**

_Ah, funny you should mention that. I have heard a similar thing from a presumably different source. So this information may be reliable after all._

_Good night, Fay. Know that I welcome your spectre in my dreams, for they would be far more of a blessing than a plague._

_P.s. You’ve been so very good. The attached stack is in very high demand, I’ll have you know. I owned the only copies in existence, you see. And now I leave them in your care to do as you please._

*

“And so we arrive at the end,” Narcissa commented, eyeing her cousin with amusement.

“Thank Morgana for that,” Hadrian muttered before taking a sip of his tea, enjoying the way the heat spread out and warmed every corner of his body.

“You know,” Regulus began, a mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes that spelled no good for one of the other two in attendance. “We were doing some cleaning at Grimmauld and while helping Sirius go through his storage, I couldn’t help but notice that a particular stack of _highly sought after_ photos had gone missing.” Hadrian could feel the blue eyes boring a hole into the side of his face but stubbornly kept his eyes on his tea, attempting to feign nonchalance.

“I’m assuming you mean the ones from that charity calendar.” Narcissa raised a brow, voice curious.

“Same ones. And when I asked Sirius about it, he just told me not to worry about it. That he had sent them off for safe keeping.” Hadrian could feel his cheeks flushing as he heard the glee in Regulus’ voice.

“Oh.” Was all Narcissa said, but it was all she had to say in order for Hadrian to crack.

“Yes, yes. I have the illicit photos. Happy?”

“No need to be so embarrassed,” Narcissa admonished, a small teasing smile appearing on her lips. “I’m sure it’s been very hard for the both of you, what with the rules and the chaperones.” She trailed off for a second, a secret little smile making its way across her lips as she seemed to relive a private memory.

“You know, Lucius and I had to content ourselves with pictures as well, after he had left me behind at Hogwarts,” Narcissa revealed, to Hadrian’s horror and Regulus’ curiosity.

“What? No, ew! I don’t want to think about Lucius sending you those kinds of pictures.”

“Why? He’s not exactly bad on the eyes,” Regulus pointed out.

“He’s practically like an Uncle to me. And he should be to you too,” Hadrian shot back, outraged.

“He’s only 2 years older than me,” Narcissa said, warning clear in her voice.

“Yes, but I’ve only ever known him as either your boyfriend or as your fiancee and now your husband. My brain just decided to delegate him to the Uncle bin,” He explained.

“You know, Lucy was actually my first crush,” Regulus admitted.

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased, if I ever deign to inform him as such,” Narcissa said, looking and sounding quite proud at Regulus’ confession.

“Oh good, so you don’t immediately spill everything to your husband,” Hadrian said with a relieved sigh, sinking back into his seat after banishing the tea that had now gone thoroughly cold from his inattention.

“I just don’t want his ego to get too big,” she conceded. “Don’t worry though, I will most definitely be informing him of the fact that you are now the proud owner of a stack of highly sought after salacious photos.”

Hadrian didn’t even bother protesting — he knew it was futile.

*

Maybe it was because this was the final date, and they already had the two more nerve-wracking ones tucked under their belt, but Hadrian felt as if their chaperones were slacking a bit in their self-assigned duties.

They had arrived at the concert hall, Sirius and Hadrian taking their seats in their private reserved balcony while Andromeda and Daisy waved them off before heading towards their seats clear on the other side of the venue.

“Well, I’m almost insulted,” Hadrian said, snuggled close into Sirius’ side. “Our chaperones basically ran off after abandoning us. They’re not even pretending to care.”

“I’m not,” Sirius said, laughing softly as he tightened the hold he had around Hadrian. “Everyone knows that the third date is more of a formality.”

“You know, you keep saying things like that,” Hadrian said, looking at the other with a considering gaze. “But where on earth did you learn all this about courtships? Because, apparently, I’m not everyone.”

Sirius looked down at him, surprise evident in his eyes before being replaced by a look of contemplation.

“I suppose courtship details aren’t exactly common knowledge,” he said, words chosen slowly and deliberately.

“Most definitely not.” Hadrian agreed.

“You know, I wasn’t exactly rebelling against nothing, all those years ago. I _was_ the Black heir,” Sirius pointed out.

“You mean _Uncle Orion_ was teaching you about the courtship rituals?” Hadrian asked, not quite able to keep the amusement out of his voice at the mental image that was conjured by the new information.

“Well, he tried. And _I_ tried my best not to pay attention. Though it seems I failed at that bit,” Sirius said, laughing at the realization.

“Hmm,” Hadrian hummed, settling back into Sirius’ side, head resting on a solid chest as he allowed the music to rise and wrap around them like a comforting blanket.

“You know,” Hadrian began, voice soft as he mindlessly traced shapes into the fabric of Sirius’ dress robes. “It really is impressive, the things you end up remembering.”

“Oh?” Sirius asked, one brow arched inquiringly.

“You remembered that I used to take lessons,” Hadrian said, smile soft and gentle as he peeked up at Sirius. “It was so long ago, back when we barely even talked to each other, yet you still remembered enough to bring us here today.”

“Who could ever forget that god awful screeching you used to make, when you first got that violin.” Sirius teased, grey eyes twinkling in mirth. He let out a short bark of laughter and clamped a hand down over the one Hadrian used to deliver a sharp pinch to his arm.

“I swear, it’s like you’re allergic to sincerity,” Hadrian huffed, glaring up at Sirius.

“That’s why you’re here,” Sirius said, chuckling, as he moved to interwine their fingers. “Keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“Hecate preserve us if I’m supposed to be the mature one.” Hadrian muttered, though he didn’t push Sirius’s hand away and allowed the contact.

They sat like that, tucked into each other, fingers entwined over Sirius’ lap and allowed the orchestra to pull them under their spell for the duration of the concert. At the end — when the last note had faded into silence, after the audience showed their appreciation for the entertainment, and the lights once more illuminated the room — Hadrian and Sirius exited and met once more with their chaperones, a pair of rings now adorning their fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are finally engaged! Only took... [checks phone] 13-15 years, lol.
> 
> What does that mean for the story? It means that I can finally get to the second part of that summary is what it means.


	7. Chapter 7

Monday came and passed without much fanfare. Taidgh had gone into work, leaving Hadrian to wander the flat aimlessly, occasionally interrupted by moments in which he would track down Athena and pester her for attention. After retreating to the kitchen to make tea and nurse his wounds — both in the physical sense (as Athena had scratched his arm in retaliation for tugging on her tail) and the mental (in which his ego was bruised from the rejection of his childhood pet) — he remembered that Mrs. Fudge hadn’t contacted him to set up a meeting for the day.

As he added milk to his warm mug of black tea, he debated whether he should send a missive of his own, to check in on her — this idea was quickly and wholeheartedly rejected though, as he eventually concluded that there was no need to track down his client on the off chance that she had simply forgotten about their standing appointment. He still had a full schedule at the shop later that week, so if one client decided to give him an unexpected day off, who was he to spoil such a thoughtful gift?

Having reached that decision though, didn’t provide Hadrian with any ideas on how to fill his suddenly empty schedule — but he also didn’t really have any motivation to try. So he continued to wander from room to room — stopping to play his harpsichord (which occupied him for the rest of the morning), digging out the violin that had been thrown into the back of a closet and forgotten about for a handful of years (stumbling through some scales and hesitantly playing through the only song he had memorized, he was carried into the mid-afternoon), and finishing a muggle book that he had borrowed from Lily years ago (she had recently made some gentle inquiries about its whereabouts, but had seemed to forget that it was Hadrian to whom she had lent it) — keeping himself busy until the early evening.

Looking at the clock, he quickly figured out that Taidgh would be returning shortly and therefore he could just lounge on the sofa in the living room until his friend’s return.

Humming to himself, he took the time to examine the engagement ring he had received the night before — rose quartz flanked by a pair of smaller garnets set into a gold band — offering a comforting weight to his left ring finger. He knew that if Taidgh had been present, he would have teased Hadrian for the love sick grin that was surely spread across his face as he stared down at his adorned hand, but said man wasn’t present so he allowed himself to have the moment. He deserved it. He was finally engaged to Sirius Black. Even thinking that caused a pleased flush to light up his face. Circe, he wished he could go back to his sixteen year old self — the one that had watched with jealous rage as Sirius ran after any girl that would give him a second glance (which was a not so insubstantial portion of the fifth, sixth and seventh year female population at Hogwarts) — and tell that furious teenager that he would eventually be given an engagement ring from Sirius _fucking_ Black.

Hearing the sound of someone arriving by floo, Hadrian looked up and saw Taidgh brushing off soot and shooting him a disgusted look.

“Don’t tell me you just spent the whole day staring at that ring.”

“I didn’t,” Hadrian denied. “I wandered around some, played some music, bothered Athena, read a book, and then stared at my ring while waiting for you to get back,” Hadrian shot back with a bright smile. Taidgh just rolled his eyes before walking over and plopping himself down on top of Hadrian, who let out a shout of protest as the man that definitely weighed more dropped his entire body weight down onto the smaller unprepared body.

“Oh how I wish I could be as carefree as you,” Taidgh said sighing deeply.

“Alright! Now get off of me! I think my ribs are going to break!” Hadrian shouted, pushing at his friend until he finally shifted over and allowed Hadrian to sit up.

“Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m not that heavy,” Taidgh sniffed, offense clear in his voice.

“But I _am_ delicate!” Hadrian said, having come to peace with that fact years before.

“Yeah, yeah,” Taidgh said with a roll of his eyes, before standing and looking down at his flatmate pointedly. “Now get up and help me make dinner.”

*

The next day, Hadrian actually had to wake up earlier than he would have liked so that he could head down to Gringotts and give a lecture to the curse breakers — though he was sure both Sirius and Taidgh would have quickly pointed out that what Hadrian considered early, everyone else considered the normal start to the working day.

That was okay. Lessons only kept him occupied in the morning, leaving his afternoons free to fill as he pleased — namely taking an extended lunch break with Lily, as he did every Tuesday afternoon.

Hadrian attached the visitor badge to the front of his robes and made his way over to the lifts, pleased to find that he had arrived early enough to beat the lunch rush and therefore had the entire space to himself. He was also thrilled when it turned out that the travel time to the second floor was cut in half now that the lift didn’t have to stop at every floor to allow for passengers to disembark — which was good, because he still had to make one more stop before meeting Lily in the Department of Mysteries.

“Good afternoon Hadrian!”

“Good afternoon Janet! How’re you doing today?” Hadrian stopped by the Auror department’s front desk, pleased to see that Janet was the secretary on duty that day — she was a sweet elderly woman that had been working as a department secretary her entire life. Though that was not how Hadrian knew her as this was his first time visiting the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. No, Hadrian knew her from her visits to his shop — she had been referred his way by Mrs. Fudge a year ago (which was one of the only benefits to having such a high-profile customer, in his opinion).

“Could be better. My back has been acting up again. I’ll have to go see a Healer at some point this week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Hadrian winced in sympathy. He had just been about to bid his farewells — the words half-formed in his mouth — when he paused. Mrs. Fudge had been the one to refer Janet his way, so it would stand to reason that the Minister’s wife and the secretary before him knew each other in some capacity and even saw each other and (at the least) made small talk on occasion. It wasn’t as if he was worried about Mrs. Fudge, but Hadrian did still find it odd that the woman who had never missed any of their weekly appointments in the two years of their acquaintance was suddenly radio silent. “Hey Janet, you wouldn’t happen to have run into Mrs. Fudge recently, have you?”

“Oh, has she been avoiding you?” Janet gave him a knowing look, which was curious as he hadn’t thought the two were much closer than acquaintances at most. Said secretary seemed to have picked up on his curiosity as she took the time to explain. “You know, I’ve known Mary since before she married Cornelius and certainly before he was elected to be Minister.”

“I don’t think that’s ever come up in conversation actually.” Well, that certainly would explain how the two women were connected.

“So I know when she’s trying to avoid me and that is certainly what she has been doing lately. It’s interesting that she’s also avoiding you though.” Janet trailed off, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “I wonder what trouble that woman has gotten herself into this time,” she muttered under her breath.

“Oh!” Janet turned her attention back to Hadrian, gracing him with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry dear. You obviously came up here for a reason, not to pay me a visit.”

“That’s okay!” Hadrian waved off her concern. “I still have plenty of time, no need to rush just yet,” Hadrian continued on in reassurance. He said his goodbyes, reminded her that she had made an appointment to see him later that week at the shop and then walked past her desk to the Auror offices beyond.

From the number of bodies slumped over their desks, it appeared to be a rather slow day at the office. Though this meant that it was easier to spot Sirius and James standing together over in the corner so he wasn’t about to start complaining.

As he made his way over to the pair, it soon became obvious that Sirius had not yet seen Hadrian enter the office. Feeling a bit mischievous, Hadrian lightened his steps and gently made his way behind his fiancé, signaling towards James to keep quiet (which was all the direction James needed. Who was he to stop another person from having a bit of fun?).

Quickly, Hadrian jumped up onto Sirius’ back, securely wrapping arms around his neck (taking care not to choke him) and legs around his waist.

“Hey, Siri,” He chirped, pecking him on the cheek.

“Fay!” If the twitch of those hands were any indication, then Hadrian had just narrowly avoided being hexed for his stunt.

“Hey Fay,” James greeted, laughing as he spotted Sirius closing his eyes and taking in deep breathes to calm his obviously racing heart.

“I almost hexed you,” Sirius scolded, tilting his head back in an attempt to glare at the other.

“I know,” Hadrian responded easily, using a finger to poke at Sirius’ furrowed brows. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.” Sirius retorted. “Can you come down now? I can’t really see you well from there.” Hadrian sighed, but since he had asked so nicely, he supposed he could comply with the request. As soon as he let go, Sirius swept him up in a hug, dropping a kiss on his forehead (which was all he could reach with Hadrian’s face otherwise buried in his chest).

“What brings you to the DMLE?” Sirius asked, reminding Hadrian that he had actually had a reason for the visit.

“Oh! Right,” Hadrian took a step back and reached into his pockets, pulling out a vial to present to Sirius. “Reggie mentioned that you woke up with a headache this morning. Thought I’d drop off a potion.”

“Don’t tell me you came here just for this?” Sirius asked incredulously, though he still took the offered vial.

“Of course not,” Hadrian said, rolling his eyes. “Me and Lily have a lunch date. Since I was already going to be here, I thought I’d bring this along.” Hadrian watched as Sirius quickly finished off the potion before handing him the empty vial.

“Wait, what do you mean you have a lunch date with Lily? Since when?” James squawked, sounding indignant at the new information.

“Since I started doing lectures at Gringotts?” Apparently that wasn’t what James had wanted to hear.

“That was back in May!”

“Yes?” Hadrian was really confused as to where the problem was with what he had said.

“Lils never lets me take her out for lunch at work!” James was now pouting.

“Prongs, that’s your wife you’re talking about,” Sirius pointed out with a sigh. “Let her spend some time away from you.”

Sirius and Hadrian shared a look — of commiseration, of incredulity, of fondness for their friend -- when it looked as if James decided that he didn’t want to be a reasonable adult and would continue to sulk regardless of what anyone else had to say.

“Thanks for the potion, Fay,” Sirius said, finally deciding to just ignore James for the time being. “It really did help.”

“No problem.” Hadrian leaned up to steal a quick kiss. “Alright, now get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

*

Stepping out on the ninth floor of the Ministry was always an experience, never mind the fact that he had been walking these dark depressing halls weekly for months at this point. Sure, the entire Ministry was underground so all windows in the building were a lie, but still, he’d take the lie of spelled windows displaying current weather conditions outside over the oppressing darkness of a department fully embracing the fact that they were subterranean.

“Hey, Sev, you here?” Peeking into the office that had been so generously set aside for the Potions Guild in order to carry out their research — and Ministry potion contract obligations — Hadrian tried to see if he could find his elusive friend.

Spotting movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned and spotted an arm lazily waving in the air — marking the Potion’s Masters position.

“Oh good, you are here,” Hadrian greeted, sliding into the seat across from the man currently engrossed in a rather hefty tome that looked as if it had seen better days — what with the pages only barely clinging to the center binding and the hardback cover looking as if it had lost it’s battle with a battalion of doxies.

“More often than not these days, that is the case unfortunately,” Severus replied, looking up to meet his gaze with an exhausted one of his own.

“I heard the guild was on strike.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Daisy mentioned it. She’s part of the Magical Botanists Guild and is currently in charge of the research on moonflowers,” Hadrian explained. Severus just stared at him — gaze so intense Hadrian almost thought that he would attempt to use legilimency to get inside of his head — before looking away with a snort, shaking his head.

“I’m not part of the group keeping an eye on that project, so I had forgotten that Daisy Greengrass was acquainted with our guild at all.”

“If I hadn’t heard it from her, I’m sure I would have eventually heard about it from either James or Sirius, considering the Aurors are the hardest hit by the strike at the moment,” Hadrian said, shrugging his shoulders.

“You are a remarkably well-connected wizard,” Severus murmured — maybe in awe, maybe in disgust.

“I am,” Hadrian agreed (as there really wasn’t any point in denying what they both knew was true). “You still haven’t answered my question though. If the guild is on strike, why have you been coming into the Ministry?”

“Ah.” Severus turned his gaze down onto the book open before him as he organized his thoughts. “I’m currently working on improving the recipe for the Wolfsbane and it seems that I have reached a stumbling block that is proving to be quite troublesome,” He explained, lips drawn into a severe frown.

“I’m happy to hear that you decided to work on it,” Hadrian offered, his mind immediately conjuring up images of Remus and how much he had benefited from just the current iteration. “Though from the bags under your eyes, it seems that you are probably at the point where you can’t think straight.”

The fact that Severus didn’t even try to dispute that was telling enough.

“I’m supposed to meet Lily in, oh, 5 or so minutes for lunch. You want to come with?” When Hadrian saw that it looked like Severus might be preparing to turn down the offer (probably by saying that he didn’t want to intrude on a prior arrangement), Hadrian smoothly cut him off before the words could be verbalized. “I’m sure Lily would be happy to see you. Besides, you need a break Sev.”

Severus gazed from his book, to his pile of disorganized notes, and back to Hadrian, seeming to waffle between decisions for a moment or two longer before he finally let out a sigh and began to stand from his seat.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” He pointedly ignored the smile on Hadrian’s face as he made his way to the other man’s side.

Together they walked towards the lift and spotted their friend — a flash of bright red hair, brilliant and bright against the dark shadowed walls.

“Afternoon Sev. I see that Hadrian has roped you into joining us for lunch,” Lily greeted, amusement in her voice and twinkling in her green eyes as she watched the two make their way towards her and the waiting lift.

“It appears so,” Severus responded with a casual roll of his shoulders and the slightest of smiles.

“Hey, it only occurred to me, but I’m still missing my copy of Jane Eyre. Would either of you happen to remember what I did with it?” Lily looked from one dark haired man to the other, brows drawn down in thought and frustration as she cast around in her memories for the last place she could have left said novel. “It’s just that I had promised to loan it to Marie, but for the life of me, I just can’t seem to find it.”

“You know,” Hadrian began, unable to adequately suppress his nervous giggles as the doors of the lift closed and they were carried up to the atrium. “Funny you should mention that.”

*

The rest of the week passed in a blur of shop appointments; there was a good mix of new and old faces, casual curiosity and neurotic anxiety, and Janet had also stopped by in the late afternoon after work — though her appointments were more of a social visit in which she would talk about work and her health over tea and have Hadrian read the dregs before moving onto another fresh cup.

He spent the weekend visiting his parents — watching his father tinker and fuss over his returned motorbike and then catching up on society gossip with his mother over tea and sandwiches — and attending Sunday dinner at the Potters.

When Monday rolled around he noted the distinct lack of communication from his long-time client and made note of it before mentally filing it away to ponder over later. Thankfully, he had tea with Narcissa and Regulus to look forward to and so only had to find a way to occupy himself for a few short hours before taking the floo to Malfoy Manor to meet his cousins.

Narcissa was planning on going out of the country with Lucius and (of course) would really appreciate it if Hadrian could look after dear Draco during that time. Hadrian had half a mind to reject the proposition and the words had been on the tip of his tongue when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He watched the shy figure of Draco making a beeline and huddling behind the settee Narcissa was perched on, wide teary blue eyes peering over the wooden frame and watching him cautiously as if knowing that he wasn’t wanted — just the thought of how his behavior might have been construed by the young child was enough to have Hadrian’s heart aching and before he knew it he was agreeing to Narcissa’s request. There really was no charitable way to view his avoidance of Draco (it really was avoidance when you take the time to think over it) and it wasn’t the child’s fault at all. Knowing that Draco was disappointed with Hadrian’s easy dismissal and had now grown to accept it just drove the knife of guilt further into this gut, twisting and causing as much discomfort as possible. One visit may not fix all of that, but the shocked look of pleasure and joy that lit up Draco’s eyes and brought a pink flush to those plump cheeks was enough to soothe his heart for the time being.

*

Sirius was not known for sitting still for long periods of time — he was physically incapable of it; that didn’t stop him from receiving his fair share of scoldings in the past for it though. He never could get others to understand what he was feeling — that it wasn’t boredom or disinterest, but rather a nervous restless energy smoldering within his nerves, slowly creeping from his toes up and out to his hands. He was made for movement — a perpetual motion machine given human form.

Maybe this was why he had gravitated towards the Aurors fresh out of Hogwarts — the adrenaline rush from chasing others always capable of providing an exhilarating head rush and the field work keeping his body active and engaged (if one discounted the paperwork that also came hand-in-hand with the job, which Sirius had neither anticipated nor enjoyed).

And then there were moments like these — when he was left alone with his motorbike, books and rags and schematics scribbled on pieces of parchment scattered around him as he poured his entire focus on this self-assigned project. His body most likely aching and crying out in hunger and thirst, but his mind had rerouted all available processing power, instead, on trying to grab hold of the thoughts fluttering just out of his grasp — images and theoretical scenarios overlapping and flickering together.

He continued on like that — intently tinkering and adjusting and fixing his motorbike — until he was pulled out of his trance by the darkness that submerged the room and hindered his vision. With a curse, he lit the candles around the attic with a muttered spell, and decided that he had worked enough for one day. Tucking his wand into a pocket and setting the oil-stained rag down off to the side, Sirius stood and gave himself one nice long stretch — his pained groans smoothly transitioning into delighted groans as he coaxed out a series of pops and cracks along his spine, his head going light and his body feeling boneless as it always did from a good stretch after prolonged immobilization.

Stopping by his room to give his hands a good wash -- wouldn’t do to eat with grease and oil staining his fingers — and to grab a hair-tie so that he could pull his hair back away from his face, Sirius finally realized just how hungry he was. His stomach was cramping and growling — as if it knew that its host was finally listening — and his limbs felt a bit more clumsy than usual; it was then that he realized that he had inadvertently skipped lunch.

He figured that Regulus and Tom had probably already had their dinner, but in those cases Regulus always made sure to leave a plate for him under preservation charms in the kitchen — he always vehemently denied it, but Sirius knew it was how Regulus showed that he cared (because Morgana knew that neither Black would ever sincerely state as such even under duress).

Taking the stairs two at a time, he almost missed the call for his attention as he passed the dining room — so intent on the search for food as he was.

“Sirius Orion Black, I know you can hear me!”

Startled midstep, Sirius looked towards the source of the voice and was greeted by the sight of an exasperated Andromeda Tonks seated between her husband and daughter at his dining table. His startled confusion must have been clear on his face, as Regulus turned to stare back at him with a look of fond annoyance.

“I did stop by to tell you that we would be having guests for dinner.”

At those words, Sirius’ memory pulled up a vague recollection of Regulus standing in the doorway to the attic room and saying something though at the time the information had gone in one ear and right out the other.

“So you did,” Sirius said, accepting the fault. “Let me go get changed real quick —“

“Nonsense!” Andromeda cut in, waving her hand as if to brush off his words. “No need to stand on any formality tonight.”

Standing in the doorway in his faded cotton shirt and jeans — he was acutely aware of the worn hole over one knee exposing the threads just barely hanging on and the fresh grease stains from where he had absentmindedly wiped his hands earlier — he couldn’t help but feel severely underdressed regardless of what Andy had said. He had opened his mouth to state as such, when the rush of the floo activating could be heard nearby and the wards chimed to signal the presence of a guest.

“I’ll go see to our latest arrival,” Sirius said before heading out to do just that. He faintly heard Andromeda calling after him with a request to “behave!” though he was confused as to why she would think the remark was necessary.

When he entered the study and met green eyes, it made much more sense.

“Evening Siri,” Hadrian greeted, smiling brightly while charming away the soot he had collected during his journey over. “Hope I’m not too late.”

“No such thing,” Sirius responded, leaning against the doorway. He gave Hadrian a once over and swore that he could feel his heart overflow with affection as he noticed that the green eyed male was wearing his clothes — the leather jacket that he had broken in over the course of a few years and the well-loved Sisters of Mercy shirt that his own godson had learned to associate with Sirius early on. Sirius had always felt an odd sort of satisfaction when seeing Hadrian wear the clothes that he had bought for him, but there was something more personal — more intimate — in seeing Hadrian don clothes that he himself had worn for years. If he was being honest with himself — which, surprisingly, he did seem to be in the mood for — it was the knowledge that Hadrian was currently bathed in Sirius’ scent (and had knowingly done so) that pleased him so much.

(Maybe the others were right and he just spent too much time as Padfoot).

Hadrian shot him an amused look — as if he knew where Sirius’ mind was taking him (and maybe he did because Merlin knew it felt like it at times) — , green eyes glittering as he quickly closed the distance separating them. Sirius felt his breath catch in the back of his throat and swore that his pulse had stuttered before quickening at the proximity, his head going light as he finally picked up on Hadrian’s unique scent intertwined with his own — and it was every bit as wonderful as he had imagined.

For a brief moment, Sirius forgets that they’re engaged and that Hadrian was his — not Nathaniel’s or James’ or Remus’ (and Merlin did those last two always bother him in a way that the Hufflepuff prefect never had) — and then Hadrian presses in close to him (so close that Sirius could feel the metal teeth of the jacket zip digging into his skin) and kisses him so sweetly that he’s pulled from that train of thought so that he can focus on the man currently demanding his attention. He smooths his hands down Hadrian’s back in apology and rests them around his waist, tugging him in even closer — erasing the remaining centimeter between their bodies — to make up for his previously wandering mind.

“Fay! My brother hasn’t eaten all day, please let him have dinner before he passes out!” A growl of frustration bubbled up unbidden as Regulus’ voice cut through the room, effectively ensuring that Sirius would be getting no further with Hadrian at that moment in time.

“Is that true?” Hadrian murmured against his lips, one brow arched inquiringly.

“What do you think?” Sirius responded, leaning back in to nip at his lower lip, trying to get Hadrian to ignore their waiting family and focus on him.

“Knowing you? Plausible,” Hadrian said very much amused at Sirius’ attempts at distraction though he was kind enough to indulge Sirius for another minute before pushing the other away with a laugh.

“Come on,” Hadrian said, grabbing hold of Sirius’ hand. “I can hear your stomach screaming for attention.” Sirius sighed, annoyed that his own organs would betray him like that, but nonetheless allowed Hadrian to lead him to the dining room where they were greeted with knowing looks of amusement.

“Get lost?” Riddle asked as Hadrian took the seat beside him — leaving Sirius to sit between him and Nymphadora.

“Oh you know me — can’t tell my left from my right. Doesn’t help that I’m so very rarely at Grimmauld to begin with and today my usual escort wasn’t waiting for me.” Hadrian responded with a smooth shrug of his shoulders.

“Hmm, Nagini found a nest of doxies earlier and is off amusing herself. I’ll pass along your complaints though.” Riddle replied with the slightest of smiles, red eyes seeming to glimmer with amusement — it was a testament to how much time Sirius spent around the dhampir lately that he could see those subtle expressions and know that Riddle was internally laughing at them.

“This is actually Nymphadora’s first visit here,” Andromeda offered in lieu of a more formal introduction, gesturing to her daughter who was sporting a rather flashy bubblegum pink pixie-cut. Sirius didn’t miss the clenched jaw or the mutinous glare said teenager sent her mother’s way at the moniker.

“Nymphadora? When’d you convert?” Hadrian asked, voice equal parts puzzled and amused.

“Convert?” Andromeda seemed to be a bit confused by the comment, though she was in good company as no one else at the table seemed to know what Hadrian was talking about — though Sirius had his suspicions about Ted (that man had a good poker face).

“Saint Nymphadora? Some muggle religious martyr,” Hadrian said, brows furrowed as Andromeda didn’t seem to react to the information.

“I really have no idea. Ted’s mother was the one who suggested it,” Andromeda said, brows now furrowed in mild annoyance. Now Sirius knew that Ted had most definitely been leading the rest of them on with that fake-puzzled expression.

“Ah, yes. She really did have good intentions though; just thought that it would match nicely with your own name,” Ted explained, facing his wife with a sheepish smile, before turning back to Hadrian with a curious expression. “How’d you know who that was though, Hadrian?”

“Oh, Jasper — housemate from Hogwarts — has a non-magical sister who ended up joining a nunnery and renaming herself Nymphadora after them.”

Sirius kept one ear on the conversation that started to pick up around the table, but he really was famished and could barely manage to think straight (and Hadrian had been kind enough to fill his plate while he had been distracted by his hunger-induced delirium) so he decided he could be excused from socializing for the moment in order to focus on the food before him.

Chewing on a mouthful of chicken, Sirius took the time to check in on the activity around him: friendly ribbing, good-natured teasing sparing not even the youngest among them, and Hadrian’s hand a warm, comforting presence on his thigh.

The ancestral Black manor had never felt more welcoming — and Sirius only hoped that it continued to do so for the foreseeable future.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the one hand: I'm working! On the other hand: I'm working. So expect updates to slow down considerably moving forward.

Just a bit after noon, the floo in Hadrian’s apartment activated and allowed one eight-year-old boy through the flames, leaving him standing on the hearth with his small hands gripping the shoulder straps of his favorite dragon bag as if to steel his nerves. He peered around at his surroundings, trying to commit everything to memory as this was his first visit to his Uncle Fay’s home, and he wanted to be able to faithfully tell his parents everything he did and saw that day.

It was on the second sweep of his surroundings that he finally spotted the feline lounging on top of a rather tall bookcase, bright blue eyes staring down at him in consideration as a long, _fluffy_ tail lazily swished to and fro.

Draco had always wanted a cat (or dog — just something fluffy that would keep him company when his parents were too busy to play with him) though his parents had yet to grant his tearful requests — his father had informed him that the albino peacocks that the Malfoy family were known for would most likely not take too kindly to the presence of either of his preferred pets. Draco didn’t like those birds — they were quite mean and loud and they sounded pretty scary and he couldn’t hug them while sleeping (he could hardly hug them during the day and he had most definitely tried when he was much younger and hadn’t learned to fear them yet).

Hadrian’s cat, though, had a thick fur coat and Draco was sure it would be soft and _very_ fluffy, but it was too far away for him to reach so all he could do was stare up at it with pleading eyes and try to telepathically communicate his wishes.

“There you are! Thought I’d heard the floo go off.”

Draco looked away from the cat that was stubbornly refusing to come down from it’s perch and over to the doorway where his uncle was now passing through. His hair was pulled into a long messy plait, and he had what looked like flour staining the front of his forest green robes, but Draco still thought he looked very pretty.

“I’m here,” Draco said, shuffling a bit closer to where Hadrian had stopped, though not wanting to go too far from the cat that was still staring intently at him.

“I see you’ve found Athena,” Hadrian noted, chuckling as he observed his feline companion assessing the young Malfoy. “Oh, stop putting on airs and come down already.”

Draco watched breathlessly as the cat lept down from the bookcase, gracefully landing in a crouch before him. Then the cat — _Athena_, he repeated to himself — lazily strolled over and rubbed her body against his leg, mewling plaintively as she looped a figure eight between his legs. Draco looked over to Hadrian, excited at the turn of events but still wanting to gain permission, and immediately leant down to scoop up the feline when he received encouragement.

“Now that that’s settled, why don’t you follow me. I thought we could start off with some tea.”

Finally getting to have the opportunity to hug a fluffy cat close, Draco was already satisfied with the visit — and if he was honest, he didn’t really have any high expectations for the rest of the day — but it seemed that his Uncle Fay was determined to make this visit as enjoyable as possible.

They started off with tea and cakes — Hadrian placing Athena onto the seat beside Draco while Draco’s dragon plush (which had been shyly tucked away in his bag until Hadrian pulled it from its hiding place) took the seat beside Hadrian.

Before that day, Draco had attended his fair share of teas with his mother, but he had never had a tea party like this. Not with a cat and a dragon plush toy as his guests and Hadrian addressing both of the aforementioned as if they were real guests — pouring out a cup of tea after asking for their preferences (which Hadrian would ask Draco for opinions on as neither the dragon nor cat could respond to the questions). Draco found himself relaxing and playing along quickly, regaling Hadrian with a fantastical tale of the exhausting day he had had at the ministry (and if it sounded as if Draco was emulating the way his father would speak after returning home from work, then Hadrian wisely kept the observation unvoiced and only spared an adoring glance at his nephew-cousin).

Once his cup was empty, Hadrian summoned his tarot deck and — to his immense shock and pleasure — quickly shuffled and placed a series of cards down on the table, weaving a tale of his future (and Draco couldn’t help the excitement and longing bursting through his chest as he heard about his new future friend).

“Have your parents ever taken you star gazing?” Draco shook his head in response, one hand clutched around the dragon plush that had been returned to his possession and the other reverently brushing against Athena’s back.

“I’m disappointed in your mum, but this works in my favor so I’ll let it slide,” Hadrian said as he stood from his seat.

“Are we going now?” Draco asked, confused. “It’s not dark enough yet, I don’t think.”

“Oh we don’t have to wait for that,” Hadrian responded easily, smiling mischievously. Draco was now intrigued. He slid off his chair, making sure to take his bag, before turning to see a hand outstretched invitingly before him. Beaming in delight, Draco slipped his much smaller hand in Hadrian’s and allowed himself to be guided towards what looked like a bedroom.

The pair found comfortable positions on the bed and then Hadrian spelled the room dark. It took some time for Draco’s eyes to adjust, but when they did, he was greeted to the sight of brightly shining stars twinkling down at them from the ceiling.

“See that one over there?” Draco followed the path from the tip of his uncle’s gesturing finger and found the cluster in question. “That’s Draco.”

“That’s me!” Draco shifted on the bed so that he could slot himself into Hadrian’s side. His uncle peered down at him for a moment — and maybe it was because of the totality of the pleasant day he had been having, and maybe it was because his uncle really did like him, but Draco swore that those green eyes that he had always found a bit intimidating previously were now warm and soft and comforting.

“Our whole family is up there, you know. The Blacks anyway,” Hadrian said before proceeding to point out every constellation shimmering overhead — intertwining stories of the family member the names were given to. Draco enjoyed the soft timber of his uncle’s voice reverberating through his small frame, the warmth radiating from where their bodies touched, and basked in the knowledge that this man — who he had always been nervous around, had always thought hadn’t liked Draco — was gentle and caring and cared _for_ Draco.

And maybe it was that paradigm shift, or the warmth cocooning him, or the soothing voice regaling him with story after story of their shared family, but Draco soon found himself losing his fight against Morpheus and was quickly pulled into the realm of pleasant dreams as he dozed against his uncle.

*

Sirius tightened his grip on Hadrian’s hand as the other led him between the guests spread throughout the first floor of the Potter’s home; Moony was just a few strides ahead of the pair, Taidgh at his side, making a beeline towards where Prongs and Lily would most likely be waiting for them.

Just a year ago, this all would have played out differently — Sirius would have been milling about with James and Lily, a drink in hand and trying his best not to look around for a certain green eyed male who would arrive shortly arm in arm with Remus and Taidgh (all three wearing costumes for whatever theme Hadrian decided on).

This time around, he was the one being pulled around the room by said man — not that Sirius was complaining (in fact, this was all a very pleasant turn of events).

“Merlin and Morgana, but he looks so precious!” Hadrian exclaimed, rushing over to where he spotted the youngest Potter slowly making his way through the crowd of milling guests and towards the front doorway, steps careful and with just the barest hint of a wobble. Sirius took in the small antlers poking through the perpetually messy head of hair that had been passed from father to son, the legs that were now the hoofed hind limbs of a faun, and the pan flute clutched between two small hands and could only agree with Hadrian’s assessment — his godson really did look adorable.

Harry offered the pair a shy but pleased smile at the compliments, round cheeks flushing with color as he turned around to show off a small white furred tail at Hadrian’s prompting. Once facing the pair of adults again, the eight year old chewed on his lower lip in thought before seeming to come to a decision. With a shy look, he brought the pan flute to his lips and attempted to serenade them with a simple performance — the execution left much to be desired but the attempt was none the less endearing and Hadrian clapped in delight before offering a galleon to the eight year old. Cheeks flushed in pleasure — and (more likely) from puffing away at his pan flute — Harry slipped his reward into the pocket of his dark green vest. He gave them a beaming smile before turning to run over to a small crowd of children whom had gathered around the familiar figure of one Molly Weasley by the front door.

Taking advantage of Hadrian’s distraction, Sirius closed the distance between them, slipping his arms around the other’s waist and burying his nose into the crook of Hadrian’s neck.

“Where’s _my_ galleon?” He murmured, nuzzling closer as he felt Hadrian’s hand slip into his hair and cradle the back of his head.

“What’d you do to earn it?” Hadrian replied, voice teasing.

“What, letting you decide my costume wasn’t enough?” Sirius asked, incredulous, prompting laughter from the other.

Hadrian had decided that he wanted to be little red riding hood that Halloween — and he looked beautiful in his red hooded wool cloak; as Taidgh had chosen to be the grandmother, and Remus the hunter, that left Sirius as the wolf — though Hadrian wasn’t content to allow Sirius to come up with his own interpretation of it and had instead convinced him to go for a partial animagus transformation in order to sport a pair of canine ears and tail. Sirius’ original plan had been to just appear as Padfoot — which would mean that he would have been unable to hold or snuggle or kiss Hadrian — so he had to admit that this was a much better idea all around.

Hadrian turned so that they were now face to face, chest to chest, and maybe Sirius was getting old — he _would_ be turning thirty in just a few short days — and a bit sentimental and soft, but he never could help becoming a bit mesmerized by those green eyes (so similar, yet just different enough from Lily’s) and this time was no different.

“What about this lovely little gift I got for you,” Hadrian said, a coy little smile on his lips as he hooked a finger under the edge of the leather collar that adorned Sirius’ neck and gave a gentle tug.

“Hmm,” Sirius pretended to think about it for a second before leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “I have a sneaking suspicion that this was more a gift for yourself than for me, which I do believe goes against the spirit of birthday gifts.”

Hadrian laughed in delight, not even attempting to deny the accusation, and Sirius moved in to swallow the sounds in an attempt to hide what was surely a besotted smile that had appeared on his face. Hadrian tugged harder on the collar in retaliation but allowed him the contact for a few more moments.

“I think our friends can keep themselves occupied for a while longer,” Hadrian murmured before grabbing Sirius by the hand and leading him through the house.

“What do you have in mind, Fay?” Sirius asked, though all he received in return was a mischievous smirk and a heated glance — but he was quite adept at reading between the lines (and had quite a lot of practice with deciphering Hadrian’s expressions besides) so he wasn’t too surprised when Hadrian pulled him into the second floor guest bedroom.

He allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed, equal parts amused and endeared by the way that Hadrian was taking control of the situation, and welcomed Hadrian’s warm weight when he followed not too long afterwards.

“Fay, I —“ Sirius couldn’t finish his sentence as Hadrian cut him off with lips and tongue, pressing in close and effectively distracting Sirius from what were surely silly worries.

“I know,” Hadrian murmured against his lips, and the weight of those green eyes staring into Sirius’ own made him think that Hadrian really did know — he probably knew Sirius’ past partners in the way that Sirius knew all of Hadrian’s, knew that Sirius had been so aggressive in his denial that he had never been with another man and now that lack of experience was coming back to bite him in the ass (figuratively).

“What if —“ Sirius was starting to sense a pattern when Hadrian leant in once more to swallow his words and doubts and if the tactics weren’t so enjoyable he would be offended at how Hadrian decided this was the best way to keep him distracted.

“I trust you,” Hadrian said, voice firm and eyes soft as he showed Sirius how to prepare him, how to reduce him to breathless moans and shuddered gasps, how to take him apart from the inside, and how to stop thinking and just enjoy the ride.

He sank into Hadrian with a choked gasp, welcoming the warmth and closeness, the feeling of Hadrian’s nails clawing down his back, heels digging into his sides, and teeth sinking into whatever mouthful of flesh they could access. Hadrian’s whimpered pleas and cries of pleasure filled the room and Sirius allowed himself to embrace the fierce feeling of satisfaction welling up from within as he finally gained access to this side of Hadrian that had been hidden from him for so long.

When he finally reached his climax, it was with the scent of jasmines filling his head and mumbled words of adoration being pressed into his skin.

“Was that a better present?” Hadrian asked, fingers carding through Sirius’ sweat-slicked hair and nails idly scratching behind the triangular canine ears perched atop and causing Sirius to burrow deeper into Hadrian’s chest in boneless pleasure.

“Much,” Sirius mumbled, voice muffled against the soft fabric of Hadrian’s black dress. “Where’d you get the dress from?”

“You like it?” Hadrian asked, easily side-stepping the question to return one of his own with a sly smile.

“`S nice,” Sirius admitted, mustering up enough energy to lift his head up so that he could look up into Hadrian’s face. Sirius took a moment to appreciate the flush staining Hadrian’s cheeks and the absolute mess that had become of his hair, pleased that he was the reason his normally well-put-together-Fay was so disheveled. “You didn’t answer the question though.”

“I’ll tell you another time,” Hadrian said, sighing, before leaning down and brushing their lips together. Sirius was now wise to Hadrian’s tricks, but allowed it to slide as he found that he was in the mood to be distracted.

“Look, I’m really happy for you two —“ Sirius dropped his head with a groan of frustration and attempted to burrow deeper into Hadrian as James’ voice called out from behind the bedroom door. “— But Lily was insistent that I not come back down without you two, so I’d really appreciate it if you could hurry it up.”

“I mean, this _is_ their house,” Hadrian pointed out and Sirius didn’t try to suppress the annoyed growl that bubbled up from deep within his throat because the man had a point but Sirius didn’t like it.

*

**Unidentified Body Found Near A———**  
By Lucy West  
November 1, 19XX

_Late last night, the unidentified body of an adult male was found on the banks of the A— river. A resident of the nearby town had been walking his dog in the early hours of the morning when the pair had stumbled upon a young Hungarian Horntail. Having seen the warnings that had been posted earlier in the year regarding the steps to take if encountering a dragon outside of a sanctuary, the resident promptly contacted the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures. The department reacted quickly and promptly sent a representative to survey the scene and capture the young dragon. Upon the successful capture (and transfer to the nearest dragon sanctuary), the representative and the resident both realized that the dragon had been curled atop the corpse of an adult man whose identity they did not know. The ministry representative then contacted the Department for Magical Law Enforcement to inform them of this turn of events. At this time, the department has not ruled out homicide and will be actively investigating the situation. The DMLE has requested that anyone who may have knowledge of either the individual (pictured below) or any unusal events that had occurred last night, to contact the Auror Department immediately._

*

“If you’ve got something to say, just say it,” Sirius growled out, glaring at his partner who had been giving him amused looks all morning.

“Nothing much,” James said, a large grin starting to appear on his face as he hopped up onto Sirius’ desk. “Just amused that the man who had always hexed people for _joking_ about giving him a collar is now happily wearing one to work without complaint.”

And really, what could Sirius possibly say in response to that — because it was true. He was very much aware of the length of black leather sitting comfortably around the base of his neck, just peeking through the collar of his auror robes — he had been absent-mindedly fidgeting with the sterling silver tag while sitting through the department meeting just hours ago, thoughtlessly reaching up to hook a finger over the edge to stroke the soft cool material of the inner lining. It was true that in the past, Sirius had always bristled at the dog collars the other Marauders would jokingly try to gift him, but this was different — this collar was well-made with his comfort in mind and Sirius just knew that it was a way for Hadrian to stake a visible claim (he could just tell from that satisfied little smile on Fay’s face whenever he caught sight of the collar).

James reached out a hand to grasp the metal tag reading the words engraved on the front and back and failing to suppress his laughter at what he read — “Padfoot”, “if found, return to Hadrian Black”. Sirius made sure to be extra rough when he shoved his partner in retaliation and smirked in satisfaction at the yelp James let out when he tumbled off his desk.

“Potter! Black!” The pair looked up to see Head Auror Scrimgeour calling for their attention and gesturing for them to enter his office. Knowing the man’s impatience and short-temper, both men shot to their feet and rushed into the office.

“The ID on your man came back,” he said, tossing a roll of parchment down onto the desk in front of the pair. “There should be a floo address and apparition coordinates listed there for his home. I’d suggest you take a look around.”

“Yes, sir,” James replied as Sirius reached over to pick up the piece of parchment before both left the office as quickly as they could without appearing to actually be running away.

“Your choice this time,” Sirius pointed out as he looked at the information on the parchment.

“Floo it is. Much closer,” James decided and Sirius couldn’t argue with that logic — there _was_ a fireplace within the Auror Department that could be used for departures and he was pretty sure that there were no apparition points closer than that.

The pair took a quick moment to make sure that their wands were holstered properly — needless to say, there was an incident in the not too distant past in which one of them hadn’t checked and then realized that their wand was sitting at their desk while they were already at the crime scene and now _both_ of them made sure to double check every time they leave for a mission — before stepping through the floo.

“Well he’s not poor,” James noted as he brushed off some lingering soot and took a look around the flat they had travelled to.

“Wasn’t he a muggle born?” Sirius asked, as he walked around the receiving room — which was curious because who had a _receiving_ _room_ unless they grew up in an old pureblood manor — and peeked out into the hallway.

“His muggle family could have been well off,” James pointed out, shrugging. He joined Sirius in the hallway, taking in the still landscape paintings adorning the walls, and noting the doors that led to a living room, dining room, kitchen, study, and bedroom respectively.

“The conversions are heavily skewed in our favor though,” Sirius responded, peeking into each room as they passed; James followed close behind, sending out general detection spells to quickly rule out rooms. Eventually, they were left with only the bedroom.

“High paying job?” James threw out, as they carefully checked the bedroom door for any traps before easing it open.

“Maybe. We’d have to do some research to see what he did before, but the information Scrimgeour gave us states that the Revenue Department hasn’t collected any income taxes from the guy for at least the last five years due to unemployment.”

“Why do we even know that?” James asked in shock. “I don’t remember ever researching the tax status for any of the people involved in our previous missions.”

“Apparently when you buy a wand from Olivander, he registers it with the Ministry who then connects it to your National Identification Number which is also used by the Revenue Department in tracking taxes paid and due.” When he noted the lack of activity behind him, Sirius turned around to meet hazel eyes staring at him with incredulity.

“Why do you know _any_ of that?”

“Riddle was complaining about it at dinner some nights ago — apparently the tracking is a bit more intensive when you’re part of a vampire clan,” Sirius explained with a nonchalant shrug. James just shook his head at his friend — a bit in disappointment for actually knowing of the existence of the Revenue Department and a bit in shock that Sirius had retained any of the mundane information from a past dinner conversation — and continued to inspect the section of the room he had unofficially claimed as his responsibility.

“Hey! I think I found something,” James called out, motioning for Sirius to join him near the unmade bed. The room was in a general state of disarray, with clothes strewn all over the floor and furniture and the base of the bed sheltering a pile of sheets and pillows — if it weren’t for detection spells, James wouldn’t have noticed the letter that was just barely poking out between the mess of sheets at the foot of the bed.

Carefully, James scanned the letter for hexes before levitating it so that the pair could read the contents together.

It was obviously written in a rush and incomplete — as it ended mid-sentence — but there was enough written down to get a general idea of the circumstances.

“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions,” James began as he began slowly processing what he had read.

“He’s talking about the Minister’s wife,” Sirius said, having no such qualms and viewing it as a simle exercise in connecting dots and arriving at a logical conclusion. “That _has_ to be referring to the Minster’s wife.”

“Mary is quite a common name,” James pointed out pragmatically.

“I’ll give you that,” Sirius conceded, before pointing at a paragraph a bit further down. “But _that_ is the address of the Minister’s private residence and this all sounds a bit like the lead up to blackmail.”

“Let’s not be hasty. There are no threats being made here,” James said and he was right, in a fashion — the letter did not contain any threats or ultimatums and therefore was not a true black mail letter.

“Yeah, but why else would he be pointing out the nature of their relationship or including her address unless he was _planning_ on black mailing her? I mean, the letter is unfinished and who knows what he was planning on writing, but you have to admit this looks pretty suspicious.”

“Hmm.” James turned to look back at the letter in consideration. “Well, at least we know where Jacob Kaylock has been getting his money from.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else remember how older short story writers (or was it just Poe) would cop out of naming people and places by using a single letter followed by em dashes? That was genius. We should bring that back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, has it really been that long since the last chapter?

When Sirius had woken up that day, he wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to say that it would turn out to be a wonderful day (because he was not that kind of person — that was more of James’ thing), but he had thought that it would be a not-so-terrible day.

It was neither a Monday (the worst day) or a Friday (the best day) or even the troublesome Wednesday (that was always the hardest day to get through) but a Tuesday which was often an unexciting day of the week. Hadrian and Taidgh had stopped by Grimmauld Place to have breakfast (because the pair had been too lazy to stock up on groceries and now their kitchen was bare and pathetic and if Hadrian’s former house-elves had seen the state of it they would have wept in pity). Neither his brother nor the resident dhampir had deigned to join them so Sirius was free to hog Hadrian all to himself for a few precious moments — draping himself over his fiancé and nuzzling into that tempting neck, allowing the smaller Black to handfeed him pieces of sliced fruit while ignoring the disgusted looks and exaggerated sounds of gagging coming from their third wheel.

All-in-all, it was certainly one of the better mornings in recent memory and served to keep Sirius in an uncommonly good mood when he finally parted from the curse breakers and flooed into work.

Unfortunately, it all went a bit pear-shaped from there.

His first hint that something was off, was the emergency department meeting that was called not even 5 minutes after reaching his desk; Scrimgeour ran a tight ship — there were no emergency meetings.

The second hint came as soon as Sirius slipped into the open seat by James, who had unfortunately (perhaps naïvely) chosen to place them within Head Auror Scrimgeour’s line of sight; the Head Auror had a commanding presence at baseline (and it was well known in the office that one could gauge how pissed off the ill-tempered man was by how hard it was to breathe in his presence) but at this moment that presence was particularly palpable — heavy, foreboding, and like a blade pressed flush against their necks.

The third hint wasn’t much of a hint at all and served to tip off even the most oblivious of the sorry lot in that meeting room — as there was absolutely nothing subtle about the growled insults and accusations being lobbed at them by their boss.

Someone had fucked up, and _bad_.

*

“Morgana’s tits, this just isn’t our fucking _week_, is it?” Sirius groaned as he threw that morning’s edition of _The Daily Prophet_ back onto his desk. The headline stared right back up at him, the bold-faced font shouting out its lies for all of Wizarding Britain to see and beneath it an infuriating black-and-white image of the _fucking_ Minster’s wife feeling up _his_ fiancé.

“That woman is a menace,” James growled out, scowling at the name ‘Rita Skeeter’ printed clearly between the headline and the looping photograph. “How did she even get such a big assignment, anyway? Hard to believe the editor would pick a society columnist to cover a criminal investigation over someone as experienced as Lucy fucking West.”

“It’s all a bit sus, isn’t it?” Sirius mused, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee passed his way; he cradled it close, absorbing the warmth radiating from the heated ceramic while he mentally worked through the clusterfuck that he now had to deal with. “First, she somehow gets her hands on that letter we found — dunno how she managed that, by the way, considering it was evidence and logged as such — and then doesn’t even print it in its entirety.”

“Which makes me think that she may not have seen it herself,” James points out. “That article was all quotes from an anonymous source that either had a shit memory or an agenda.”

Sirius remembered yesterday’s Daily Prophet article quite clearly and how it had all the hallmarks of a Rita Skeeter Exclusive™. She had revealed that the letter had been found in the victim’s apartment but failed to inform the public that it had been written by the victim himself. Instead, she added her trademark embellishments and “suggested” that the letter may have been a threat addressed _to_ the victim by some third party that was trying to warn him away from the Minister’s wife. Of course, Skeeter was the master of plausible deniability — she had seen her fair share of libel suits for the society articles she was known for after all — and so had enough sense to only write in a way that _hinted_ at all of this (allowing readers to connect the crumbs of information she had dropped and independently arrive at the conclusion that she had wished for them to).

“And now, there’s this pile of shit,” Sirius continued, gesturing towards the article he had thrown down in disgust just moments before. “The fucking _audacity_ — trying to implicate _Hadrian_ of all people.” Sirius threw another withering glare at the waste of tree pulp. “Also,” he said, sitting up straight as a thought occurred to him, reigniting the flames of his outrage. “How did she even get that picture? Was she stalking him?”

“That’s something to look into,” James said in agreement. “Skeeter could run her mouth all she wants, though — not like it’ll have any effect on how we’ll be handling the investigation.”

“I know,” Sirius sighed. “Just don’t like the thought of her hounding Fay, that’s all.”

“Oh I’m sure none of us are too keen on that,” James said with a shake of his head before dragging Sirius out of his seat and out of the office in search of lunch.

*

Hadrian had been wrapping up with his last customer of the morning — walking her to the front of the store where he rang her up for their session and then inquired after the litter of kneazles that had come into her possession the previous month, while she counted out her galleons — when the front door opened and the wards chimed, catching Hadrian very much off-guard. Both Hadrian and the customer — one Ms. Murillo — looked back at the entrance and did a double-take at the pair of Aurors that crowded the doorway.

“May I help you?” Hadrian asked, after several moments had passed and neither Auror had offered any explanation for their presence.

“Would you be Hadrian Black?” The taller fellow on the left inquired, though it didn’t sound much like a question to Hadrian.

“That would be correct,” Hadrian confirmed with a small nod of his head, choosing to remain behind the register.

“We just wanted to ask you some questions, if that’s alright.” Again, Hadrian had the odd feeling that it wasn’t so much a question as a statement — it was just something about the voice and how even it was with the delivery.

“That’s alright with me,” Hadrian said in reply. “I’d love to help however I can. Would you like to come in?”

The Auror — the one on the right this time — shook his head.

“We’ll need to bring you back to the Ministry for questioning.”

Ms. Murillo, who had lingered in the shop at the first hint that something scandalous may be about to be revealed, raised her brows in surprise, but otherwise made no move to provide Hadrian any semblance of privacy.

“Oh.” Hadrian did not like where this was going. Aurors out for a friendly chat would not need to bring him into the Ministry — that was the protocol reserved for questioning suspects in active investigations (Hadrian had learned as such from listening to James and Sirius talk about work the past several years). “Let me just lock up the shop then.” This last part was partially aimed at Ms. Murillo, who had not shown any signs of vacating the premise until this moment.

“I’m sure everything will be fine, dear,” she reassured him on her way out the door. He thanked her for the sentiment and bid his farewells before following the Aurors outside. He surreptitiously touched one of the runes on the outer doorway, activating the security wards and locking the door, before turning back to the patiently observing wizards behind him. He offered them a strained smile before reaching out to place a hand on the portkey thrust towards him.

The sensation of a hook sinking into his navel and tugging him into the magical transportation void seemed to be particularly harsh this time around — when they finally landed in the Ministry interrogation rooms, Hadrian had to hold onto the nearby desk to steady himself or he would have surely collapsed into a dizzy heap on the unforgiving tiled floor. After a moment, the sensation passed and Hadrian took the indicated seat at the table, facing the Aurors who had come to collect him.

“Mr. Black, would you say that you’re close with the Minister’s wife?”

Whatever Hadrian had expected, _that_ had not even made the short list.

“Not particularly, no,” he responded, brows furrowed as he didn’t even try to hide the confusion from his face.

“But you meet with her regularly?” Mr. Tallboy — as Hadrian mentally dubbed him since they hadn’t bothered with any introductions — continued on, face blank and voice carefully devoid of emotion.

“Once a week, usually. Though she hasn’t been keeping her appointments of late,” Hadrian mused, only belatedly wondering if it was such a good idea to be so forthcoming.

“And what is the nature of these appointments?” It was said matter-of-fact, but Hadrian couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an undesirable implication beneath the words.

“Mrs. Fudge sometimes has a difficult time making decisions and so will request the use of Divination in order to help.” Hadrian realized that his answer was quite vague, but figured it was probably better than just providing too much information and accidentally implicating himself in whatever this was all about.

“And that’s where you come in,” Mr. Tallboy commented, eliciting a nod of confirmation from Hadrian.

“Does the name Jacob Kaylocke ring any bells?” Mr. Shortlad — who was still taller than Hadrian, but had the misfortune of being a whole head shorter than his partner —asked, to which Hadrian shot him a quizzical look in response.

“None at all. Should it have?”

“Mr. Black, what were you doing the night of October 31st?” Mr. Shortlad asked, easily sidestepping the question Hadrian had posed.

“I was at a party. I could give you a list of people that can vouch for me if you’d like,” Hadrian offered, though he had a feeling the Aurors would move on without acknowledging that offer.

“Hmmm.” Oh, seems Mr. Tallboy was actually considering the offer — interesting.

“I find it all a bit curious,” Hadrian began, looking from Auror to Auror as he finally caved to his curiosity. “I would have thought that protocol would recommend that you use veritaserum when interrogating suspects.” Hadrian watched as the two Aurors turned to exchange looks with one another — Tallboy looking a smidge sheepish and Shortboy cocking a brow with the slightest of movements — before turning back to regard Hadrian.

“Some… adjustments have had to be made to our protocols,” Mr. Tallboy admitted, expression neutral. Hadrian had a feeling he knew exactly the circumstances that would have prompted such a massive shift in Auror protocol — he _had_ predicted as such when talking with Severus just last month.

“I could procure my own veritaserum from a reputable potion’s master if that’s the issue,” Hadrian offered tentatively, unsure of how the offer would be received. Mr. Shortboy allowed his eyebrows to visibly climb up and Mr. Tallboy wasn’t quite quick enough in covering up the twitch of his lips.

“We assure you, Mr. Black, if you find yourself before the Wizengamot, you will most certainly be provided with the opportunity to testify under veritaserum. Until such a time, though, it is simply not necessary.”

Hadrian was sure he could detect a hint of amusement in Mr. Tallboy’s voice, but wasn’t given much time to ponder it further as the pair entered the rapid-fire question stage of the interrogation.

As Hadrian answered questions regarding the breadth of Divination services his shop offered and rattled off a list of his most recent customers, he idly wondered if James or Sirius would be able to explain what exactly it was that he was being suspected of.


End file.
